


Alpha

by Rhiw



Series: A Delta's Worth [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha!Stiles, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Beta!EventualAlpha!Derek, Beta!Jackson, Beta!John, Beta!Scott, Blow Jobs, Control Issues, Cunnilingus, Deepthroating, Deltas are Omegas, Dirty Talk, F/F, F/M, Face-Fucking, First Time, Gen, Heat Sex, Hermaphrodite!Stiles, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega!Stiles, Rough Sex, Rut Sex, Season 2 AU, Semi-Public Sex, Sex, Sex Dreams, Sex with Sentient Animals, Vaginal Fingering, Werecoyotes, Werewolf!Sheriff Stilinski, Werewolf!Stiles, slight bestiality
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-05
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-01-14 10:23:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 47,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1262749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhiw/pseuds/Rhiw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Holy shit.</p><p>Stiles was the Alpha.</p><p>He felt his breathing pick up, panic rearing its ugly head in his breast. How the fuck was he supposed to lead a pack? He’d only had his license for six months. He’d never kept a job longer than two months, for Christ's sake! Oh my god, he was an <em>Alpha.</em> They were all doomed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Heat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He stood, his skin appearing pale and taunt under the growing star light, tall and proud as he turned to face them, unashamed of his nakedness. His entire front was covered in blood like a gruesome liquid cloak that dripped from his chin.
> 
> And his eyes.
> 
> They were a brilliant, glowing crimson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to get out, work was absolutely the worst. I could feel the anger through the Internet for making you guys wait. I felt so guilty.  
> So this is the squeal to Delta and you'll want to read that first because this will make little to no sense if you don't. I really can't tell you guys how much I loved all of your comments and kudos, you are all seriously awesome. You guys responses to making Stiles was varied and amazing. 
> 
> Un-betaed.
> 
> Now with gorgeous fanart by [Sen](http://artofsen.tumblr.com)

**February** **16th, 2011 - Friday**

John stared, eyes wide and mouth dropped so far open he knew he looked a fool, at the sight before him. The scent of lust was gone, overpowered by the smell of blood and death. And his boy – his baby boy – was crouched over the unmoving form of Peter Hale. Slowly, as if a puppet first being awakened by the subtle pulls of its strings, Stiles began to move.  
  
He stood, his skin appearing pale and taunt under the growing star light, tall and proud as he turned to face them, unashamed of his nakedness. His entire front was covered in blood like a gruesome liquid cloak that dripped from his chin.

And his eyes.  
  
They were a brilliant, glowing crimson.

[He stood his skin appearing pale and taunt under](http://artofsen.tumblr.com/post/108960453885/he-stood-his-skin-appearing-pale-and-taunt-under) by [Sen](http://artofsen.tumblr.com)

“Stiles?” Scott asked weakly, voice a whispered wobble. Stiles head snapped to stare at him.  
  
“Look down,” John said quickly, averting his own eyes, “look away, look down, now.” Stiles’ turned to stare at him, lips pulling back in a silent snarl. So far into his heat and so maltreated, John had no idea if there was anything left of his son in that moment. “Alpha,” he murmured, voice soft in deference, “Son.”  
  
Slowly, slowly, the lips pulled back down.  
  
And then he saw Derek.  
  
It was like a switch had been flipped, Stiles' entire body tensing, a low growl filling the clearing.  
  
“Derek,” John drawled quietly, “you need to run. Get him as far from town as you can.” Next to him, the young man was unmoving, staring at Stiles with something that could only be classified as awe. “Derek.” Nothing. “Derek. Son,  _go.”_  
  
And just like that he was off, cutting across the clearing, Stiles close on his heels. John let out a shuddering breath at the sight, running a shaking hand through his hair and hoped to god that he’d just sent Derek off to mate and not to die.

“…John?” His head snapped to the side to find a terrified looking Scott standing next to him. He reached out, tugging the teen forward into a hug.  
  
“It’s okay, it’s alright.” Jackson stood to the side, looking uncomfortable and just as anxious. John’s hand shot out, yanking the startled blond forward until he held them both in an awkward embrace, Jackson stiff and tense. Christ. The things these boys had seen tonight. “It’s alright.” He pulled them closer still, purposely ignoring the way Jackson went limp against his side. “It’s alright.”  
  
There was a rustle from the bushes to the left and all three Betas turned, watching as a slightly dazed coyote stumbled out of it. The canine shook its head, as if trying to shake off water, before turning eyes the color of molasses to stare at them.  
  
Both boys startled and Jackson straightened as if too move away but John tightened grip, keeping them against his side, more than aware that any sudden moves would only startle the nervous creature further.  
  
“That was a fine thing you did,” John said softly, “helping my son like that. Are hurt? Do you need me take you to Deaton? Or back home?”  
  
The coyote cocked his head to side before slowly shaking it negative.  
  
“Are you sure?”  
  
A nod.  
  
“Alright. Be safe getting home; stay on the reserve edges but avoid the roads. I don’t know where Stiles or the hunters are.”  
  
Another nod. The coyote backed away slowly, eyes still trained on them, until they could no longer see it in the brush. Then it turned and sprinted away.  
  
“Did you…just,” Jackson’s voice was halting, unsure, “have a conversation with a  _coyote?”_  
  
John laughed, running a hand through the prickly strands of the blond’s shorn hair before releasing them. He forgot sometimes how much they still had to learn.  “Come on boys, I’ll show you how to properly bury a dead body.”  
  
Both teens visibly blanched. Scott shifted uncomfortably, exchanging a look with Jackson. “Uh…”  
  
“You’re going to show us how to bury a body.” Jackson said flatly. “You. The Sheriff.”  
  
“I wasn’t always a Sheriff, son.” John chuckled darkly as he herded them back towards where he parked the cruiser.

Derek was fast, but Stiles was faster.

He made a wrong move – the barest of hesitation in angle – and the Alpha struck. He was tackled from behind, Stiles easily forcing the larger body down. The Beta grunted, cursing loudly as the force of the hit sent them both crashing through a decaying log. Derek growled, slamming his head backwards and into the new Alpha’s chin and lips. He managed to scramble a few feet away on all fours before a hard punch caught him on the flat of his back, between the blades of his shoulders, and forced him back on his stomach.

Derek barely had time to register the change when he was forcibly turned onto his back, a hand wrapping around his neck in warning as a body settled atop his hips. Crimson eyes dragged slowly down the exposed body before him, the curve of Stiles’ lips wicked and lust-filled as he settled. He could feel the warm trickle of slick as it pooled around his hips, but the hand on his throat was still clamping down and Derek felt light headed from the lack of oxygen.

“Stiles.” The younger wolf growled, leaning down until they were almost nose to nose, sharp canines snapping inches from the soft cartilage in warning. Derek felt his vision whiting out, his lungs burning, but somehow managed a desperate, “sweetheart, _please.”_

The body above him went still; the growls tampering off to snarls intermixed with confused huffs as the grip lightened. Stiles’ familiar face slid past his own, cheeks pressing together as a nose nudged at his jaw. Derek obediently tilted his head back, keeping his body still and lax, exposing as much of himself as possible. The breath on his neck was hot, impossibly so, and the whole body atop him felt like a furnace with the heat burning Stiles from the inside. Derek was worried, but there was little he could do like this; with Stiles lost to his heat and new Alpha instincts, pushed to the very limits of his control, and Derek himself on the verge of falling back into rut.

All Jackson could hope was that the aggression it would bring out in himself wouldn’t end up being his undoing. One rut-charged challenge for dominance with Stiles like this and Derek could easily cease to exist. And his rut was kicking back in with a vengeance. How could it not with his mate so ready above him?

Stiles’ erection had reawakened (if it had ever truly waned) and was painting thick, wet lines against Derek’s hip. A tongue laved over the expanse of his neck, twirling at the skin between the fingers holding him down, a happy little rumble escaping from his chest as he did so. Derek risked a move, tilting his head ever so slightly to gently butt his forehead against his Alpha's. Stiles sighed against his neck, his tongue traveling up from his neck and over his jaw, catching on his stubble before drawing over his lips.

Derek let his mouth fall open, allowing the teenager to do as he pleased. The tongue explored his mouth thoroughly, fishing into the narrow valley between his lips and teeth, licking across his tongue and molars, dipping into the space between the floor of his mouth and tongue, before settling with coaxing his own into a tangling, twirling knot of muscle.

The tongue withdrew and the Beta followed it, lapping over the contours of Stiles’ teeth and lips. The submissive display seemed to please him, Stiles mewing happily as he leaned into the contact, hips rocking forcefully down. Derek panted, claws latched into the soil below to keep from reaching out and grabbing his mate, his full cock trapped between their chests, sliding lazily against Stiles’ own dick.

This was Stiles’ show, it had to be, but god, Derek wanted nothing more than to flip them and fuck his mate senseless. The slow grinds continued, gradually speeding up until they were both moaning, his own groans strangled around the hand on his neck, their groins becoming sloppy and wet with their combined juices.

Just when Derek didn’t think he could take it any more – when he was sure he had to do something – Stiles cried out, hips stuttering as the scent of his cum filled the air, hand digging deep against his larynx. Derek coughed, hands flying up to rip at it before remembering himself and dug back into the soil.

If his little mate had gained any relief from the orgasm it must have been brief, for moments later he was reaching down and yanked his pajamas and boxers off with a rip, allowing their scents to mix together more freely. Derek only had seconds to enjoy the cool air on his sticky and uncomfortable cock before it was suddenly encased in the tightest, warmest, wettest cunt he’d ever experienced.

It was like a vice against his dick, gripping him like a fist as the muscles fluttered and undulated around it. Derek couldn’t help it, he thrust up with a growl, desperate to get relief after hours of rut – and found himself almost blacking out as the iron grasp on his throat tightened warningly.

Instinct had him going limp under the furious glowing eyes, boneless and contrite, as Stiles glared down at him. The teen waited a moment longer, his new instincts overtaking even his heat in its need for obedience, before slowly dragging his hips up until only the very tip of Derek’s cock was resting inside before slamming back down.  The tightness around his throat loosened as Stiles’ hips began to work him, his mate’s face lost in complete pleasure and Derek groaned at the sight of it.

Stiles' slick was leaking out around them, coating his cock and knot, dripping down Derek’s balls and crack to the ground below. His mate was so wet, so fucking wet, as he rode Derek quick and hard. The angle of Stiles’ hips switched and suddenly the teen was howling.

His breath caught at the sight of Stiles’ lean body as he arched and stretched above him, one hand clinging to a low hanging branch for support as he fucked himself on Derek’s cock. His head was thrown back, chest heaving, skin flushed pink from where it peaked out amongst the drying blood. His knot was filling, each bounce of Stiles' wet pussy on top of it causing it to swell even faster, but Derek somehow knew that his mate would reach completion before him.

All at once Stiles was coming apart above him, around him, his passage fluttering against his cock and Derek shouted as the Delta’s muscles locked almost painfully. Stiles was slumping, the beleaguered tree branch released as the hand relocated to Derek’s chest for stability. The hand on his throat slid away to join it and the Beta glanced wearily as Stiles shuddered, entire body shaking.

Bright eyes, still slightly wild and most definitely still red, carried the first signs of recognition. “Derek.”

The relief he felt was so sharp it hurt and he gave him a strained smile, his heart lightening for the first time in days at the sight of the bright intelligence drifting back into Stiles’ eyes. He meant to say something, maybe to comfort or defuse the guilt that was on his mate’s face as he stroked his fingertips over the edges of his bruising neck, frowning.

But Stiles was already rocking against him and Derek was still so very, very hard; cock swollen and angry, the need to orgasm triumphing everything after so long of being denied. Stiles’ hands slid to rest on his chest, palms splayed wide for balance as he slowly slid himself up his length.

They both shuddered when he sunk down again, just as slow, and Derek could swear he could feel every bump and grove of his mate’s passage as it passed over the oversensitive nerves of his cock. Stiles rode him for a while, slow and methodical and _perfect,_ but Derek could see the way the exhausted wolf's thighs trembled and shook.

It was a risk, but the Beta brought his hands up to Stiles’ hips, grasping prominent hip bones. He didn’t react to it other than ducking his head with a gasp, chin tucked against his chest demurely as Derek started to physically drag him up and down, fucking himself with that warm heat.

That he could now touch – that he could now fuck – was more a relief to his inner wolf than Derek could have ever imagined and he practically howled with it. The whimper Stiles let out in response was perfect, beautiful, as he began to thrust up. It wasn’t as hard as Derek wanted to do (every inch of him was screaming to flip his pretty little mate over, to pin him and fuck that tight, velvety grasp until neither one of them knew their names) but he knew better than to ask too much too soon; Stiles eyes were still a brilliant crimson. But it was enough, more than enough, and soon they were both panting, hips meeting viciously as they both sought out the endgame that had been denied to them for so long.

Derek’s orgasm almost caught him by surprise, his hips surging up to tie them together, hands gripping so hard he knew Stiles’ hips would have bruises. His mate went completely still, every muscle strained as he locked around Derek’s knot and shook with his own orgasm, the clear cum of a Delta pooling in the curves of his muscles and the dip of his belly button.

Derek went limp, chest heaving and vision on the verge of whiting out as he finally, _finally_ came.

Stiles let out a sigh of satisfaction. The haze of need and the burn of want had finally eased, retreating to the edges of his mind, and the teenager let out a soft sound. It seemed like every inch of his body was shaking, forearms quivering as they supported the weight of his body. He blinked, letting his eyes drift over the sweaty, delicious form of his mate, pleased and content.

Until he saw the bruises.

They were like a strange necklace, a malicious ring of greys and deep purples around Derek’s neck. He let out a whimper of distress. “I hurt you.”

“It’ll heal.” His voice was a low rumble, sounding almost as fucked out as Stiles’ own. Big hands slid up his waist, thumbs rubbing along the lines of his back as Derek shifted up, moving them so that Stiles was in his lap and cradled against his chest. The move tugged at the knot inside him and they both moaned.

Stiles’ new power sung underneath his skin, a strange counterpoint to the exhaustion of his heat and imprisonment. He glanced down at his thickened claws, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the edge of one in thought. “…I’m an Alpha.”

Derek made a soft sound agreement, “my Alpha.”

Those words – so simple – did something terrible to him, something blooming in Stiles’ chest that was an ungodly mix of love, pride, and possession and he surged forward, greedily claiming his mate’s mouth. The kisses that followed were more of a fight than anything else; all teeth and tongue and bites, yet Derek was always careful not to push too far, careful to back down before Stiles felt the urge to make him. Inside him, Derek’s knot was already beginning to recede, leaving his prostate bereft and Stiles’ clamped down instinctively, trying to coax it back to life. But it was too early in the heat for a lengthy knot and Stiles moaned at the feel of Derek’s cum leaking liberally from his cunt and down the Beta’s still hard cock.

“F-Fuck, _Derek.”_ Stiles whimpered, body trembling in arousal as his hips began to move again, grinding down on it until his pussy lips stung slightly from the rough rub of Derek’s pubic hair. His movements were sloppy, exhausted, and his mate took over almost immediately. Stiles groaned his name, his arms sliding around the his shoulders, claws digging into his skin in a burst of pleasure-pain. Derek squeezed Stiles’ hips, their mouths devouring each other hungrily as Derek began to fuck up into him forcefully. Their combined scents seemed everywhere, making him lightheaded and even more desperate, and it didn’t take long for their movements to grow frantic.

“Stiles,” Derek breathed as he broke their kiss, “you feel so good.” He sounded almost lost. “Feel so tight, so perfect.”

It was. It was perfect. The duel natures inside him warred; a part of Stiles wanted to be pinned down – taken, owned. But the Alpha inside him snarled and writhed at the very idea. But this – Stiles could do this. It was just enough force to make him feel possessed, but Stiles left no doubt who was in charge as his mouth nipped and bit at the pulsing skin that covered his mate’s jugular.

Their hips were meeting with enough force to bruise, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the night air obscenely, each thrust stealing the breath from Stiles’ lungs. Derek’s arms wrapped around his waist like iron bands, holding him still as his thrusts grew more and more erratic. He could feel the knot tugging at his entrance, each pull out becoming harder and harder for Derek to duplicate.

Stiles was so close; his mate filled him so good, so right, and – and – he let out a cry as Derek’s knot caught and they tied, his cock locked as deep as it could go, his head pressed against the hard, unyielding lip of Stiles’ cervix.

They stayed like that together for a long time, the only sounds in the reserve seemingly the harsh pants of their breath, the soft sounds of lips meeting. He was content to stay curled on top of Derek’s cock, feeling the pinching twinges of its head pressing against his womb, filling him full with each of his mate’s twitching orgasms. He nuzzled further into Derek’s chest, nearly purring as strong arms wrapped around him. A wide palm ran over his back, the touch soothing and perfect, while another ran over the stretched skin of his pussy's lips, tracing the place they were connected.

“Never heard of a Delta Alpha before,” Stiles mused, ignoring the slur to his words. He was too content to be embarrassed.

“Neither have I,” Derek admitted softly, the finger pressing against the strained skin that was wrapped around his knot, “but that doesn’t mean anything. Gender doesn’t mean anything.”

“You’re very open minded.”

A shrug, “not really. My mother was my Alpha.”  

Stiles hid his smile against the warm skin of his mate as a pulse of love and gratitude took him so strong he felt his insides shake with it. He pressed kisses wherever he could reach, dipping his tongue every now and then to taste the salty sweat that seemed to cover them both. He butted his head against his mate’s chin, a contented rumble escaping them both as they dragged their cheeks and foreheads together.  

“We’re mated.” He said softly, voice a happy whisper, and _melted_ against Derek’s larger form as he received the most bone achingly gentle, possessive kiss of his life. They pulled away and Stiles nuzzled back into his mate’s neck, content. Long arms wrapped around him again, pulling him tight, as the Beta pressed a kiss against the crown of his head, lips resting against the short hairs.

“I thought I was going to lose you. I thought-” Derek’s voice cracked and the teen felt his heart throb at the display of emotion, gripping his mate back just as tightly, “I thought I was going to watch as you were taken from me. Kate and…and then Peter.”

Stiles tensed, “I killed Peter.”

“He was a murderer and a rapist. You did what you had to.”

“Still, he was your uncle-”

“He’s no family of mine.” Derek interrupted, voice hard, “I’ve never been so glad my family's dead. If my mom or Aunt Charlie had seen him like that…”

He stopped, letting out a sharp breath against Stiles’ forehead. They fell into a comfortable silence, heat and rut sated momentarily by the unforgiving tie that bound their bodies together. As the silence grew, Stiles felt his discomfort begin as well. They were too open, too exposed, and he wanted them back in the comfort of their den as soon as possible. Logically, he knew that now that he was an Alpha…

Holy shit.

Stiles was the Alpha.

He felt his breathing pick up, panic rearing its ugly head in his breast. How the fuck was he supposed to lead a pack? He’d only had his license for six months. He’d never kept a job longer than two months, for Christ's sake! Oh my god, he was an  _Alpha._ They were all doomed.

“Stiles?”

He was spastic and flighty, he forgot shit more often than not and - and he was  _young;_ inexperience was the norm not the exception in his life. Out of everyone Stiles knew, he was the least fitted to be an Alpha. He’d never even met another wolf before Derek and now he was supposed to lead a pack?

A large hand cupped the back of his head and Stiles tensed, fighting back a snarl at the proximity to the nape of his neck. But Derek wasn’t trying to give him a scruffing, the hand was too far up for that. Instead the move was meant to be a calming one, his head being tilted so that lips could press against his in an open mouth kiss that drove the panic from his mind and left him breathless. It seemed like ages before Derek pulled away, eyes soft and full of love as his hand slid to cup his cheek.

“Feel better?”

Stiles’ ducked down, hiding his face again in an attempt to escape the hot blush that had taken his face. “How am I supposed to do this, Derek? I can’t be an Alpha – nothing about me screams ‘I'm an Alpha, obey me!’”  

The Beta chuckled and Stiles stiffened, offended, but Derek’s hands were back, soothing and gentle as they rubbed his back. “Sorry, it’s just…you’re so wrong, Stiles.”

“I don’t see how,” he whispered, vulnerable and soft, as he nuzzled deeper into Derek’s neck.

“When I first came here, I was stunned by you. You just took me in, no questions asked. You gave me clothes, made me food. You stepped in front of a _gun_ for me, Stiles.” _Huh,_ the Delta thought, _hadn’t known he was engaged enough to remember that._ “For a Beta you didn’t even know. I could have been anyone. I could have been Peter. You’d never seen a non-blood wolf before, I thought maybe it was some sort of strange fascination that would wear off.  Then I met John and I thought, ‘this just must be how they are.’ You took care of Scott-”

“Scott’s my best friend.”

“Yeah, a human. You had a _human_ for a best friend. And I know there wasn’t any wolves around when you were growing up but trust me when I say that it’s really, really rare for someone to go outside of the species like that. You treated him like family, even though he had no idea what you were, even when you didn’t know if he would turn on you if he knew you were a wolf. And it wasn’t just Scott. When I was watching you at school – Stiles, you take care of _everyone._ Greenberg, Danny – you broke up with him to protect him, even though it made you so sad. Even Jackson. Even that dick of a sociology partner you hate, Elijah.”

And here Stiles was flushing, pleased and embarrassed to think that Derek had been watching him so closely that he’d picked up on something so mundane.

“You make sure everyone is fed and safe and happy before you even begin to think about yourself. I couldn’t think of a more perfect person to be an Alpha.”

Stiles curled even further into his mate, pressing against his muscled chest as if he could somehow climb inside and never leave. He had never loved anyone or anything the way he loved Derek in that moment. “I don’t know if I can do this alone.”

 “You won’t have to. You’ll have your dad.” A kiss was pressed against his forehead. “And me. We’re a bonded pair now, Stiles, nothing is ever going to drag me from your side.” Derek’s voice grew lower, rougher, “for what’s that worth.”

“Derek?” He pushed himself free, glancing up at his mate in confusion.

“Peter was right, I couldn’t keep you safe. You were on the cusp of heat and I let them take you. Kate tortured you, Stiles. She – and then Peter. I couldn’t do anything to help you. I promised you and I…I failed you.”

“Derek,” Stiles managed, voice choked with horror, “Derek, _no_. You-”

“I did. I know it and you know it.” Derek ground out, face was twisted and dark with self-loathing. “I couldn’t protect you from anything.”

“Hey,” he murmured, shivering as the knot inside him shifted as he leaned back, taking Derek’s face in his hands. “Stop that. Hey, I mean it. Who the hell could have predicted what happened? Kate is a psychotic fucking sociopath.”

“I should never left have the heat room.”

“That close to a heat neither one of us was thinking right.” Stiles insisted firmly. No one could think straight with that many hormones raging around and he was almost positive that it was rut drunkenness that had allowed him to get Peter, “and you leaving probably saved our lives. You know what’s she capable of, what she would have done if she hadn’t been able to get to us.”

Like burn the fucking house down around them.

“And Peter? Seriously? _Peter?_ If one of us is to blame for that, it would be me. I spent _four hours_ in his room on Monday-” Derek snarled at that, a low growl tipping from his chest as his arms tightened around Stiles’ waist, “- and I didn’t pick up on anything. Not a scent, not a twitch of life that could have told me he was the Alpha. No one could have called what happened. Not you, not me, not dad. No one.” He leaned forward and pressed all of his love into his kiss, speaking against chapped lips. “You’re my mate, Derek, I don’t want anyone else.”  

The tension drained from his mate’s form, the grip on him lessening into something more comfortable and less desperate. Blue eyes stared up at him, bright with both the change and emotion.

“I love you.

“I know.”

Derek snorted, pulling him back to his chest. “You are such a nerd.”

“Ah-hah! I knew you liked Star Wars!” Stiles crowed as he settled back in the Beta’s lap. Then, softer, “we should head back to the heat room when we can.”

Fingers probed at the place they were connected, causing a swell of arousal so strong that Stiles’ felt his stomach dip with it.

“We’re still tied.”  Derek’s voice was hoarse, rough, and the Delta shivered, suddenly hyper aware of every inch of his hard cock inside him, and he clenched, his inner most muscles pulling hard and up against it. “Stiles!” His mate choked out, hands flying to his hips.

“Think I can get us to cum like this?”

“Don’t,” he warned, “we’ll be tied longer and-” Derek moaned, head slumping forward and mouth slack as Stiles clenched again, whining at the delicious feel of it and began to bring them both off again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, the heat sex.
> 
> And feelings and junk.
> 
> Love.
> 
> Added AN: I'll had the chapter count up soon. Hope it lived up to the wait.


	2. To Be an Alpha, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Of course,” he said softly, nuzzling into the hand that cupped his jaw, “I’ve always wanted you, I think.”
> 
> “Then shit’s fine, yeah?”
> 
> “Yeah,” Scott agreed, voice hoarse with emotion and let himself be guided back down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry for the wait! Here's the first part. I should hopefully have the next chapter out soon.
> 
> Head the tags, Scott and Jackson tend to write themselves with a little bit more violent sex. I dunno if its their personalities or because they're both Beta Males or a mix of both, but yeah.
> 
> Un-betaed.

**February 18th, 2011 – Sunday**

Stiles moaned, hands fisting into the sheets above his head as he fought the urge to clamp his thighs, trying desperately to rock down despite the fact that broad hands pinned his hips. Derek’s mouth was a hot furnace locked against his cunt and he ate out Stiles like he kissed, deep and insistent. His mate alternated between thrusting his tongue inside and sucking on his lips, the wet muscle tracing each fold as he did so.

The newly made Alpha squirmed, feeling slick slip from him in obscenely long drips – only to be instantly lapped up by Derek. His nose was pressed against the tiny bump of his knot, the brushes of warm air against causing Stiles’ cock to shudder and twitch. His heat scent was the strongest there and Derek took deep, all-encompassing inhales of it. A finger slid in around Derek’s mouth, dipping into his wet cunt and Stiles cried out, spasming as his cock wept.

They were both drunk on his heat, the Beta so far into rut that Stiles hadn’t heard him say a full, cognitive sentence in hours. The finger slid out as Derek pulled his mouth away before replacing it on his cock, taking it all the way down to the root. At the same moment three fingers thrust roughly into his open and ready passage, the finger Derek had wetted early slid carefully passed the tight pucker of his ass.

Stiles shrieked, eyes burning red before bowing off the bed, back a violent arch as he came so hard that he actually blacked out.

When he came back to himself, Derek was already lining up his cock. Stiles whined, wrapping both his legs around Derek’s hips as his mate sunk into his oversensitive cunt. They’d been like this for almost two days, fucking constantly with intermitted breaks for food and water, but it had only been since early this morning that Stiles’ new instincts had calmed down enough that he’d been able to finally let Derek take him on his back. He still couldn’t abide being put on his stomach but this – this he could do.

And _god,_ was Stiles grateful for that. He wrapped his arms around Derek’s neck, nails biting into his shoulders as he began a grueling pace, pounding into the teenager so hard the mattresses slammed into the wall with each thrust. As heady and powerful Stiles had felt riding Derek (and the older wolf had shown him so many different ways that he could take a knot on top) this was a different type of perfection.

There was something so… _right_ about Derek fucking him like this.

The heat was almost over, Stiles could feel it in his bones, and as much as he mourned the loss of this – of the constant, endless presence of Derek’s cock and knot in him – he was so ready for it to end. He was sore and chaffed and _sticky._ Oh, the dirtiness. To be able to take a shower without interruption! To become clean and know he was going to stay clean.

And then there was the hunger.

It hadn’t blossomed into a full thing but it was there – just under the surface. More of an awareness that it was coming then an actual pang of need but soon Stiles would need to eat and not the small meals that he’d managed during small, coherent moments when the Delta had been knotted and his heat had temporarily been sated.

Above him, Derek’s pace began to stutter, his thrusts losing their rhythm and growing more and more desperate. Stiles stole his mate’s mouth into a kiss, tasting himself on Derek’s slick tongue, and squeezed the hard knot with his Kegel muscles. The Beta broke the kiss, throwing his head back in a rough, worn sounding cry as his hips slammed forward and locked into place.

His mate dropped down atop him, breathing heavily as he burrowed his face into Stiles’ neck. He curled his arms possessively around sweat soaked hair, nuzzling into the sticky strands as he felt the now familiar feel of Derek’s cum filling him. It was a strange feeling. It wasn’t as if he could feel each individual shot of cum – there wasn’t very much pressure behind it. But Stiles could still feel it, like a growing sense of being filled; a strange and warm tickling sensation against what he could only imagine was the entrance of his cervix. Werewolves came a lot by nature, and despite the sheer number of times they’d both cum during the heat and rut the amount had never wavered.

But very little of it had ever made its way outside of Stiles; only the slight shimmer that coated Derek’s length and knot (and _fuck,_ he’d become a pervert because it was his new favorite thing in _life_ was to lick his mate’s spent cock clean of their mixed juices) and the occasional dribble down his thighs. A dribble that Derek would always carefully scoop up with his fingers, face intent, and push inside the teen's well used pussy.

“Stiles,” Derek croaked against his neck, hips rocking forward into another orgasm, “love you. Love you, Stiles.”

He fished his mate’s face out from his neck to kiss him, long and wet, before it dissolved into almost too hard nuzzling. “I love you, too.”

“Almost over?”

“I think so,” Stiles admitted, sighing as the sex filled haze that had surrounded his mind finally began to taper off. “I’m so ready for it to be over.”

There was a huff of laughter against his forehead as Derek pressed a kiss there. “That bad?”

“Oh, shut up.” He admonished, “you were perfect. You know you were perfect.”

“Perfect, huh?”

“Yes,” Stiles stated, seeking his mate’s lips again, “perfect.”

The afternoon found his heat finally breaking. Stiles realized it when they were showering and neither wolf made an effort to fuck, focusing instead on cleaning each other as thoroughly as possible. They changed into a pair of clean clothes that Derek had somehow had the presence of mind to throw into the wash and then dryer, so the oppressive scent of the heat and rut was somewhat calmed. It was further tamed when they stripped the bed and nest, shoving as much as possible into the washer and moving what they couldn’t into scented trash bags and sealing it. The plastic liner they used to protect the mattress was declared a total loss and thrown away completely.

They worked together to clean the heat room, wiping everything down and moping the floors until it smelled only of bleach and cleaning products. Just because everyone knew they were having a heat didn’t mean that they had to scar anyone with it. Only once they had put the last of the towels in the washer did Stiles deem the room fit enough for them to leave.

Stiles was only slightly surprised to find Deaton waiting in the kitchen with his father. Derek seemed more surprised, jerking slightly and stepping closer to his mate as he eyed the Emissary. It was classic post-heat attitude, enhanced even more by their recent bonding. Derek would seek to protect him, shield him, despite the fact that Stiles was his Alpha. The teenager didn’t know if it was his new status that kept him from reacting as nervously, but he sent the dark skinned man a cheerful greeting before giving his dad a big hug.

“Congratulations,” John said with a wide smile, hugging him tight before repeating the action with Derek. He ruffled the taller Beta’s hair affectionately, obviously amused by Derek’s somewhat awkward expression. “Welcome to the family, son. Glad to have you.”

“Thanks,” Derek muttered, red faced, bringing a hand up to rub at his neck. “Where’s Scott and Jackson?”

“They’ve gone ‘camping’ in the woods behind the house.” John chuckled, “your heat set off a mini-rut in them both. Honestly, I’d like to say I’m surprised by it, but those two have been dancing around each other for so long I’m not.”

Stiles nodded before pulling out an entire quart of orange juice and proceeded to down it all at once. He finished with a deep, gulping gasp, bringing a hand up to wipe at his mouth before pulling another quart out. He always craved orange juice after a heat and John always kept the fridge stocked with it. He sat down at the table, letting his head fall back to rest on Derek’s stomach as his mate came to stand behind him, large hands resting possessively on his shoulders. He sighed, letting himself droop slightly as Derek began to work at the knots in his muscles.

“So, Deaton. What’s up?”

The Emissary gave him a genial smile. “I came to offer my congratulations and my services. It has been a long standing tradition – and an ancient one – for a Druid Emissary to serve an Alpha. I would be honored if you would allow be to be your guide and counselor.”

Stiles observed the man, head tilted to the side in thought. He’d known Deaton for almost the entirety of his time in Beacon Hills, the Druid serving as his general practitioner and dentist in one. In the years that he’d known Deaton, he’d never tried to harm him or lead him astray. He glanced up at Derek, who had known the Druid even longer, and when he nodded gave his assent.

“Sure, can’t hurt anything.” He took another sip of his orange juice. “I mean, we’re kind of in unknown territory here, at least for me. I’ve never had an Alpha, hell I’ve never even had a pack. Is there anything we need to do? Like a ceremony or anything.”

“Only this.” Deaton offered his hand but when Stiles went to take it, he directed the Delta’s grip down lower until they were grasping each other’s forearms instead. “A few words, to seal the bond between us. I, Alan Deaton, of the Oak Grove, hereby vow upon the blood of my ancestors and the honor of my masters, that I will do my best to guide and offer counsel, to give information so that you – Alpha Stilinski of the Beacon Hills pack – may be as informed and balanced as possible.”

The words were simple (though the idea that he was now _Alpha_ Stilinski and that his pack was large enough for a name made his pulse hum) but the air around them seemed to change, to grow lighter as if the oxygen in it had somehow grown thinner.

“And in return, you must accept that my loyalties will always remain with the old ways and that there are some things I cannot – must not – tell you. That I will always be a member of my order first and your Emissary second, that while I work for the good of your pack on some things I must remain neutral, and that I will never break the Old Code even if you ask me to. Can you agree to that, Stiles?

He swallowed around a sudden dry mouth, aware that Derek’s grip on him had tightened until it flirted with pain and that his father was standing completely stiff, eyes locked on Deaton. “I can. I mean, yes. I can agree to that.”

And then, just like that, the odd atmosphere gone and Deaton released his arm.

“Excellent. Then we can begin. As the reigning Alpha of the largest – and only pack – of werewolves in the territory there are several things you must do.” The Emissary leaned back in his seat, hands clasped together in an earnest movement. “Beacon Hills, though quiet now, has long been a nexus of power and a magnet for the other world. Several different beings of the supernatural have been drawn here over the years and you are not the only creatures to settle here.”

That was news to Stiles and it must have been evident on his face because Deaton gave him a fond smile.

“Just as wolves’ value their secrecy and privacy, so do the other packs, leash, murder and prowl that have settled here. And more will come, now that there is an Alpha wolf settled in the area. You are aware, of course, that werewolves are the top of the predator hierarchy?” At Stiles' nod, he continued on, “then you can understand that this puts _you,_ Rupert Stilinski,” and that earned his father a rather mean glare, “as the utmost authority in Beacon Hills.”

Stiles could only gape at that, the insecurity that had been buried under the hectic needs of his heat blooming in his chest again. He leaned back into Derek, the older wolf’s strong presence at his back a welcome and reassuring thing. “Well. So, I’m gonna go ahead and admit that intimidates the shit out of me.”

“That’s why you’ll have my aid, anytime you need it.” Deaton said earnestly. “I know you are young and that this is a daunting thing, but you have your pack to help you and myself. I’ve known you since you were a pup, Stiles, and I can tell you that you are a good man. Trust your instincts and you will do fine.”

“You make it sound so easy.” He ran a hand over his buzzed hair, shaking his head. It was all very surreal; two days ago he was locked in a moon room, prisoner to a hunter by his own stupidity and almost raped by Peter Hale. And now, now he was… “You said there were things that I have to do?”

“Yes,” the Emissary said, his voice gentle and level, “you must do a Greet. It’s very informal, you don’t have to do anything besides wait here. Normally you’d have your pack with you but seeing as Scott and Jackson are…indisposed…your mate and father are more than enough. The leaders of the local families will come here and introduce themselves to you. This is both an act of submission and deference. They'll come to show that they will not challenge your authority and do not wish for any type of violence between your pack and theirs.”

“They did it when my grandfather died and my mother became Alpha,” Derek added softly, a hand coming up to cup at his neck as he leaned down to press a kiss to the crown of his head. “It’s not a big event. It shouldn’t cause any violence.”

Stiles nodded. “And when will this start?”

“Soon, I’m afraid.” Deaton answered apologetically, “usually it happens the day or the day after a wolf claims their Alpha-ship. Clearly, with your heat, this could not happen. The wait has made some nervous. It is best to get this out of the way as soon as possible.”

“You’re talking about today.”

Deaton nodded.

“I’m talking about today.” He gestured to the back door. “The leader of the local murder of crows,” and here the Druid said a serious of clicks and chirps, “though I call him Hrókr and his son and heir, Róki, wait outside even as we speak. The Crows are an old species, not shifters in the traditional sense as they cannot change into human form, and have resided here in Beacon Hills since long before it was founded. They are an old and queer species, that exist more in the other realms then they do in our own plain, and rarely involve themselves in the matters here. They are, among other things, primarily watchers. The Crone of the nearest Coven, Margret Nurse, will be arriving soon to announce herself as well.

Of the theriantrophs, the Alphas of the local Coyote and Dog packs, as well as the Lobizón – a were-jaguar, Stiles,” Deaton corrected at his confused look “a female and her cub, the only ones of her species on the west coast, that live in Rockfell is driving in as we speak. Rockfell, since it is close to being absorbed by Beacon Hills, is a part of your territory as well.”

To say that Stiles was overwhelmed was to be an understatement. He’d known about the Coyotes, his father had never lied about their presence though Stiles had never met one of the shy creatures, but he had no idea about the others. He brought a shaky hand up to wipe at his mouth and tried not to be so scared he actually pissed himself. He knew that he was bleeding his fear into scent, could tell by the concerned glances his father was throwing him and the way Derek tightened his grip on his shoulders once more.

How the fuck had he gotten here?

At sixteen he was mated and most likely pregnant, Alpha, and apparently some sort of king of Beacon Hills.

Scott groaned as Jackson fucked his throat ruthlessly, hands like vices on either side of his head as he held him still. Above him, his boyfriend growled at the sensation, his thrust intensifying before he stilled with a long, low groan. Scott scrambled to bring his hands up, releasing their hold from where they’d been clinging to Jackson’s thighs and wrapped tightly around the blooming knot against his lips. He gave a low whimper as cum filled his throat until it actually spilled up and out around his tongue, swallowing greedily as he ground himself desperately against the sleeping bag, shuddering as he finally released on the already stained and abused fabric.

They’d been fucking for what felt like hours. Scott had known something was off the moment he’d woken up on yesterday morning, covered in sweat and cock harder than it ever been in his life. No amount of jerking off had made his erection go away and he was lucky that his mother wasn’t home because there was no way in hell that he could silence the sounds that had come from his mouth.

When Jackson had shown up in his doorway somehow the Beta hadn’t been surprised, despite the fact that they had no plans to meet up that day. He’d been on his knees, chest pressed heavily against his mattress as he pumped three fingers into himself while desperately fucking his already cum-slick hand. He’d heard him before he’d smelt him; the pounding of his boyfriend’s heart loud even against the frantic beat of his own. And then Scott had smelt the distinctive notes of Jackson’s scent; thick and full with virility and male musk. But despite all that, he hadn’t really registered the blond’s arrival until he’d heard a low growl, the sound angry and vicious, from the hallway. He’d barely managed to turn when Jackson was a top of him. And then…

Well…Scott wasn’t really sure what had happened outside of the fact that it was _violent._

Eventually Jackson had pinned him to the ground, his forearm a heavy press against the back of his neck while his other hand was dug – nails deep – into the meat of his thigh, and fucked him quite literally into the ground. When they’d both finally came, the younger wolf was completely flat against his floor, thighs spread awkwardly and uncomfortably.

When he’d been able to think again, everything – his room, himself, Jackson – was wrecked. His mattress was halfway off its frame, his desk chair missing an arm and on its side in the corner, half his book case was missing it shelves and had spewed its contents around his room. And they were both beat to hell. He was fairly certain he remembered breaking one of Jackson’s hands and he knew he’d torn something in his groin area and the entire room reeked of blood and aggression.

 _“What the fuck is happening?”_ Jackson had hissed and Scott hadn’t an answer to give him. Apparently his boyfriend had woken up in a similar state as himself and had damn near crashed the Porsche in his mad rush to get to Scott. A quick - yet still life damaging, embarrassing - call to John had given them their answer.

They were in rut.

A lie to their parents had them setting up camp a few miles into the reserve behind the Stilinski house, though the actual process of setting up a tent and fire had taken far, far longer than it should of because it seemed like every few minutes the two started what had quickly become a rather predictable pattern.

The two would fight like rabid animals; tearing at each other with their claws, breaking bones and drawing blood, before Jackson would somehow pin Scott down and fuck him senseless. The knots that took place seemed much shorter than usual, only lasting a handful of minutes, and in the rush of sanity that followed it they would gently probe and lick at each other’s wounds, remorseful and contrite, before it would begin all over again. They continued the cycle of madness until late into the night and they'd finally fallen into exhaustion, curled so tightly around each other it was a miracle they could breathe.

Hands gently pried his own away from the swollen knot as Jackson crumbled to his knees, chest heaving and eyes a bright blue, before pushing Scott flat onto his back. The brunet shuddered at feel of a tongue thoroughly cleaning his oversensitive cock. Finally a chaste kiss was dropped on his limp and swollen tip before Jackson slid up to lie on top of him.

“So good for me, Scottie.” Jackson praised as he lined their crotches up together. They were both still limp, knots wilting against each other, but his cock felt warm and safe in the hollow of Jackson’s hips. “Such a good boy. You like being good for me, don’t you?”

Scott nodded tiredly, pressing a kiss to the blond’s cheek, grunting slightly as Jackson lifted him to wrap his arms around his waist. His mouth was caught in a soft kiss. The madness – and if could only be described as madness – of their rut seemed to be fading and the gentle affection that he’d come to expect from his boyfriend was returning more and more.

The light filtering through the tent colored everything a light green and the woods were silent saved for the rustle of the wind through the bushes and trees. No wildlife was stupid enough to come near two mating werewolves, much less two Betas in rut. The kiss suddenly grew deeper, filthier, as Scott felt Jackson grow hard against his hip, but he barely felt the urge to fight and all he did was squirm and whine unhappily. Jackson silenced him with a sharp nip to his bottom lip, their mouths quickly filling with the taste of copper.

“Shut up,” Jackson warned, voice a low rumble, “you love taking my cock. You love taking it here,” he pressed his fingers as against Scott’s lips, pressing insistently until he let them in, pantomiming fucking his mouth as he roughly thrust them in and out until the tent was filled with sloppy, wet sounds and his chin was covered in saliva. He pulled them out abruptly and with no preamble shoved them deep inside Scott’s already swollen and gaping ass, “love taking it here, too, don’t you, Scottie?”

Scott nodded, unable to deny anything with his cock already at full length and leaking, his hips shoving back to meet each rough plunge of those long, thick fingers.

“Answer me,” Jackson demanded, twisting his fingers cruelly until Scott was crying out, hips lifting off the sleeping bag in an attempt to grind them against his abused prostate. “You love it don’t you? Love taking my fucking knot, love me filling you up until you leak _everywhere,_ like a fucking whore. Like you pissed yourself. Christ, if you could see yourself. I don’t even need lube, you’re so stuffed with my cum.”

“Jax!” Scott cried, throwing both hands above him as he craned his head back to show the entire length of his neck.

Jackson swore loudly, “you’re so fucking pretty when you submit like that. You know just how to get me, don’t you, baby? Tell me.”

“Jack-”

“Tell me!”

“I love it! I love it. I love your cock, love your knot, love you – agh!” His words careened off into a scream as Jackson sheathed himself roughly, a hand going to grip at his already crossed wrists and pinning them while the other wrapped around his throbbing cock.

“Say it again.”

“Love you.” Scott managed to choke out, eyes nearly rolling back into his skull as the blond Beta fucked him so perfectly he felt like he was going to cry. Each thrust ended with a rough press to his prostate, every fuck slamming Jackson’s balls into his own until the feeling verged on the best type of pain. “Love you, love you so much, love you. Love you, Jax. Love you, only you.”

“You’re mine!”

“Yours,” Scott agreed breathily, whimpering as his balls drew tight against his body. His orgasm was almost there, he could feel it in the way the tension in his stomach welled and stretched, “only yours. Love you. Love you, Jax. I love you.”

“Scott!” Jackson cried out, the word muffled from where he’d pressed his mouth against Scott’s shoulder in a rough bite, his hips kicking up with one last, mighty thrust that pushed the younger wolf's head and shoulders clear off the sleeping bag. Jackson’s knot, which hadn’t fully gone down from his last orgasm, seemed to swell even larger and harder, and the spike of pleasured-pain that came with it sent Scott over the edge, his own knot flaring.

They laid in silence for a long moment, the only sound in the small tent their panting, before Jackson carefully moved them onto his back so that Scott rested on his chest, his legs falling on either side of his hips, his oversensitive knot comforted by the touch and pressure from where it was trapped between them. Jackson was already halfway to sleep and though Scott felt much the same, he didn’t think he could pass out even though he wanted to.

His mind was going too fast for that.

He took the moment to observe his boyfriend – and now his possible mate. What Stiles had said wasn’t far from his mind, hadn’t been since John had used the word ‘rut’ to describe what was happening to them. Scott found he didn’t mind the idea that they could have mated. No, he corrected as he stared at Jackson’s handsome features, he didn’t mind at all. But did Jackson even have any idea what was happening? What it meant if two wolves bonded? That it was…that it was permanent?

“Stiles…he said…that, um, when two wolves, uh, of the same-”

“I heard.” Jackson murmured, not bothering to open his eyes. “Everything.”

“Oh," he said quietly, slightly embarrassed, "do you think, I mean, you and I, mated?”

Scott himself knew, oddly, that they had. He knew it like he knew that his name was Scott or that his birthday was in June. But what if Jackson didn't feel the same way? What would that mean? What would happen to him?

“Yes.”

“Does…does that bother you?”

The questioned earned him his boyfriend’s full attention, eyes opening to stare up at him, voice guarded. “Does it bother you?”

“No!” He exclaimed quickly, horrified that he could have given him that impression. “No, I don’t mind it. At all. But,” he bit his lip and carefully pushed himself so that he was sitting in the cradle of Jackson’s lap, shuddering at the slip-pull of the knot, “mating – bonding. It’s for life, Jax.”

“You think I don’t want to be married to you?” The m-word caused him to blush horribly, Scott feeling the tips of ears go pink. Hands gripped his ass, squeezing tightly as they pushed and pulled his cheeks apart. “Because trust me, baby, this?” Another harsh squeeze, “this I want.”

“I can’t…” Scott stumbled, licking his lips and glancing down at where his hands were resting on Jackson’s chest, thinking about what his boyfriend had told him about his mother. “I can’t give you kids or anything, not like Stiles. And…and I mean, I’m me. And you’re you and-”

A hand was pressed gently against his chin, forcing him to look up, and Scott found his breath catching at the serious look he was being given. “Stop making me repeat myself, McCall. I want you. I want everything you have. That's not gonna change. You’re mine, understand?” Scott nodded, struck mute by the sincerity in his tone, “and kids? We can always adopt - _way_ down the line. Give some poor kid a nice home, just like my parents did with me. I know this entire thing is fucking crazy. Werewolves? Hunters? Pair-bonds? But I don’t fucking care. I want you. Just you. Do you want me?”

“Of course,” he said softly, nuzzling into the hand that cupped his jaw, “I’ve always wanted you, I think.”

“Then shit’s fine, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Scott agreed, voice hoarse with emotion and let himself be guided back down.

Back down to his mate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mmm, smut. I do love my Jackscott. Did you like sexy times between our two favorite couples? Some serious fallouts coming our way, be prepared. Next chapter should be out soon. What did you think of Deaton? And all the new creatures?
> 
> ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW? Werejaguars are a thing in TW now? Jesus, first the coyotes and foxes and now the werejaguars. We must be dipping from the same source. I for-real did not know that was thing until it was commented on and I googled it.


	3. To Be an Alpha, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The growl that ripped from his throat was low and furious, ending all conversation around them. “What?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait guys, expect the last part of this chapter up tomorrow or the day after at the latest.

**February 18th, 2011 - Sunday**

Thankfully, Deaton had given Stiles a handful of minutes to disappear and change out of his pajamas and into actual clothes. It gave the new Alpha a much needed moment to freak out away from prying eyes. He tried to ignore the way his hands shook as he pulled on a pair of jeans and a plain, grey t-shirt that was dirty but carried the combined scents of his pack, before slipping on a pair sneakers.  Stiles tried not to dawdle, really he did, but he found himself dressing slowly, chewing on his bottom lip in thought. He slid on his favorite red hoodie, fiddling with the zipper as if he really couldn't decide whether or not he wanted it zipped or not.

If Scott was here, he'd have taken one look at the red hoodie and been extremely worried. The hoodie was old as sin, the obnoxious red having faded to a more tolerable scarlet a long time ago. It was also Stiles' favorite piece of clothing he owned and somewhat of a security blanket. Whenever he was worried or anxious, Stiles would pull out the red hoodie. It had belonged to his mother once, and when Stiles was younger he used to hide in its oversized cut. He'd since grown into it, the hoodie fitting him more like a comfortable, well-broken glove than anything else, but it was still his go-to item when feeling utterly overwhelmed.

Stiles forced himself to take a deep breath and handle what was about to happen.

The Delta’s fear had lessened somewhat, but the responsibility of what was about to take place – what it would all mean – was terrifying. Submission was a two way street. While these people were coming to submit to him, to acknowledge his race's greater strength and power, they were also coming to cement alliances. Proper submission was expected to be rewarded with proper dominance. It would be Stiles job as Alpha to not only ensure that his territory was safe, but those that lived within its boundaries were safe as well. To put it simply, they would obey Stiles and in return expected protection. It was a lot to take in, to say the least. He stood staring at himself in the mirror. To be more correct, he was staring at the red that still masked his natural eye color.

There was the sound of weighted footsteps on carpet as Derek entered his room. His mate came to stand behind him, hands sliding around his waist as a nose found itself way into the space behind his ear, nuzzling. “You alright?”

“Not really,” Stiles answered truthfully. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

The arms around him tightened, tugging him back against a broad chest as a kiss was placed on the soft, vulnerable skin. “You can.”

The _'because you have to'_ hung unsaid between them. Stiles sighed, turning and wrapping his arms around the Beta as he hid his face in the crook of Derek’s neck. “I’m only sixteen. I’ve never had an Alpha; it’s always just been me and my dad. How am I supposed to...a baby, Derek.” The arms around him tightened as a chin came to rest heavily atop his head. “I just want to graduate and-”

His voice broke and he silenced himself, burrowing even deeper into his mate’s arms. Derek sighed, bringing a hand up to rub at his back soothingly. They stood in silence for a long moment, listening to murmured conversation of John and Deaton downstairs. If Stiles listened hard enough he could just hear the elevated heartbeats of Scott and Jackson in the distance.

“You may not be pupped,” Derek said softly, “we won’t know anything until Deaton runs the blood test next week. And even if you are, we’ll make it work. You forget that I grew up in a pack with an Alpha, I know pack politics better than most. My mother, Talia, she was…not like other Alphas.” The older wolf admitted softly. “She could do a full transformation.”

Stiles started at that, pulling away to glance up him. A full transformation was almost a thing of legends. It wasn’t something he really thought about, but the actual shift most wolves did was actually considered only a partial transformation. Only those who could change completely into a wolf, appearing only slightly larger than their natural, wild companions, were considered capable of doing a full transformation. Unlike coyotes, who were born seemingly with this ability intact, for a wolf to manage it spoke of a serious amount of power.

“You never told me that.”

Derek shrugged. “She was a focal point for packs, an Alpha among Alphas. So trust me when I say I’ve got some experience dealing with this type of things.” A hand reached up to cup his cheek, a thumb gently running over the shadow of his eye. “I won’t let you fall, Stiles. Trust me. Trust Deaton.”

The teenager swallowed hard, pushing the anxiety and fear down, and stood on his tip toes to press a sweet kiss in thanks to Derek's lips. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

Hrókr and Rókr were large – so large that they could have easily been mistaken for ravens instead of crows – but even with their size, they could have been mistaken for regular blackbirds if it wasn't for the fact that they had three legs, like a camera tripod or something. And here Stiles thought he’d seen most of the weird shit the world had to offer from being a werewolf. Nope, guess not. Stiles stood awkwardly beneath the two crows, staring up at him with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his father and Derek a pace behind him. He glanced at Deaton and the Emissary gave him a smile before gesturing up to the trees.

Stiles cleared his throat. “Uh. Hey.”

The smaller of the two crows – who Stiles was going to take a wild guess was Rókr, head cocked sharply to the side, opened his beak – and spoke. “We greet you, Rupert Stilinski – Delta son of John Stilinski, Claudia Stilinski nee Conell, Alpha of Beacon Hills.”  
  
Stiles blinked hard; but yeah, full blown words were coming out of the beak, deep and croaky, despite the lack of lips. And they could say quite a bit, apparently. It seemed that Rókr would have gone on, but the larger crow – Hrókr - interrupted with a simple, slow, “greetings, childling.”

Stiles’ mouth opened and shut a few times before he managed to pull himself together. “Hello, uh, welcome to my yard.”

 _Stupid,_ the wolf thought with a wince, _stupid, stupid._

“Your words are well met, if not expertly crafted.” Hrókr said, head twisting around to the other direction. “Know simply that we are here, young pup, as we always have been.”

“And always will.” Rókr agreed, words ending in a sharp caw. “For our murder is as tied to these grounds as they very earth that layers it and-”

“Shall the fates be willing, we shall see little of each other, Alpha-pup.” Rókr’s feathers fluffed slightly at the second interruption and Stiles was struck with the image of an irritated, self-important princeling teenager, silenced by his father and fought the twitch of amusement in his lips. “But know that we are the un-wielding strength of the great oaks, but hold the flex of the willows. And if the need is called for, we can hold the angry wrath of the western winds.”

And then, just like that, the crows took off and left Stiles staring up at them blankly. Slowly, the new Alpha turned to stare at Deaton in confusion. “…why do I feel like I was just threatened with nature analogies?”

“Because you were,” the Druid said with no small amount of amusement, “the Crows have long been guardians of the lay lines of Beacon Hills and their priority at all times remains with keeping them pure and undisturbed.”

“I don’t want to disturb them,” Stiles said with a helpless frown, totally bewildered by confusion, “I don’t think I even know where they are, much less how to taint them.”

Deaton shrugged. “Crows do not think linearly, Stiles. That warning could not have even been meant for you, or at least not the you of now. Perhaps it was meant for the Alpha you will become in a few years times, or even for your children.”

He turned to stare at his mate. “Where they this weird with your mom?”

“Weirder,” Derek said with dryly, “and I didn’t even hear half of it. They talked for a lot longer with my mother than they did you.”

“Does that mean, I don’t know, something bad?” Stiles asked, nervous.

“They are…strange creatures,” Deaton said after a moment, “I would remember their words, but I would not think on them too hard.”  
  
Stiles opened his mouth to say something else – before blanching at the sound of an impassioned howl that broke off into a gasping whine, carrying cleanly and easily on the summer air. All three wolves winced, Stiles’ cheeks heating up at the unmistakable sound of Scott’s (and it was Scott, he knew his friend’s voice better than his own at this point) pleasurable cry, mixed with the fiercely pounding heart beats of his missing pack mates.

“Eh,” Stiles said with a strained laugh, “why don’t we move this inside? If we’re to be expecting folks, we probably should have snacks or something laid out, right? Try to be a good host and all that.”

His suggestion seemed to amuse everyone else, though damned if Stiles knew why, and he lead the way back inside, digging through the pantry for chips and nuts, bread and cheese, anything he could lay out without actually having to cook anything. By the time the doorbell rang for the first time, Stiles had a pretty decent spread laid out on the kitchen table, as well as cups out for pop, a freshly made pitcher of lemonade, and another full of water. Stiles desperately hoped that whoever was at the door wouldn’t be able to pick up on the sounds of Jackson and Scott’s rut.

He opened the door and found himself faced to face with an aging woman, most likely in her late sixties, with grey hair pulled up in a tight French braid, her eyes the same unique color of green one found when glancing up through spring leaves into the sun. She smelt like dirt and storms –and wholly inhuman.

“Alpha Stilinski, I take it?” The woman said, extending her hand and taking Stiles’ in a firm, tight handshake. “Margret Nurse, Crone of the Beacon Hills, Rockfell, and Dublin Covens. Glad to see to finally meet you – and congratulations on your recent mating.”

The Witch pushed past him, offering her hand first to Derek (and how she knew he was her mate, Stiles had no idea) than to his father before taking Deaton’s in what looked like a truly bone crushing grip.

“Well met, Crone Nurse.”

“Call me Margie, Alan,” She said, “goodness knows we’ve known each other long enough to drop pretenses. Good to see you back in the swing of things and with a pack proper.” She glanced at the spread before accepting a beer that Deaton seemed to have prepared for her. “Good lad.”

She took a sip of the Stella, before turning to glance at Stiles.  
  
The Delta tried not to fidget under her hard stare.

“Walk with me, kid.”

They stepped out onto the back porch, Derek and John watching them through the window, and Stiles felt like a visitor in his own yard as he followed the Witch around. Margie took a deep drink of her beer, eyes locked on the tree where the two crows had been perching. “I take it you’ve met Hrókr. How did that go?”

“It went well.” Stiles said slowly, “I think.”

Margie let out a bark of a laugh, “yeah, they’re like trying to talk to a brick wall, little bastards. Don’t let the birdbrains get you down with their mystic b.s.” Stiles winced, glancing around wildly like the crows would appear out of thin air at the insult. “As long as you don’t go breaking any of the Laws, you won’t be seeing them anyway.”  The Witch turned to look at him, eyes shrewd. “Well, I don’t see any reason to beat around the bush.” Margie killed off her beer before tossing it into the outdoor trashcan. “I’ll give you my fidelity, kid, and all that comes with it – that means you won’t be facing any attacks of the magical variety as long as I can help it. And if you do, you won’t have to deal with it alone. In return, you keep my girls off the radar for any hunters and stay the hell off my land unless invited. Sound fair enough?”

Stiles nodded, blinking at the woman’s abrupt attitude, “yeah. That sound’s – uh – golden. To be honest, I didn’t know that you existed until about two hours ago. So….as long as none of your people hurt any of my pack, I have no issues with you guys.”

Margie watched him for a long moment. “You’re so young,” she mused, “to accept so quickly. Thought that’s not necessarily a bad thing, but be sure when you agree to this. I expect your protection, just as much as I provide for you,” the Crone leaned in, crowding the wolf, the scent of ozone rising from her skin in gradual waves, mixed when the smell of threat and violence, “and if you fuck up and get my girls hurt I will come calling. Still wanna agree to this, pup?”

She was voicing every fear that he’d had since becoming an Alpha, yet when faced with them Stiles found himself only standing taller, eyes narrowing as they flared a bright, angry red, something hard and brutal blooming in his chest. “I may be young but I’ll protect what’s mine, make no mistake. And you better get the hell out of my space, lady, before I make you.”

The Witch laughed, the threatening smell fading as she took a few steps back and restored distance between them once more. “Gotta bit of a bite to you, don’tcha? Good enough for me,” she stuck her hand out, “do we got ourselves an accord, Alpha Stilinski?”

Stiles took the hand, squeezing it tightly. “Suppose we do.”

Margie gave him a wide grin, swinging a hand over his shoulder before guiding them back towards the house. Stiles was only slightly surprised to find Derek standing only a few feet away, his body tense as he eyed the arm around his mate, brow furrowed. He imagined that Derek hadn’t been very pleased with their little mini-Mexican standoff. “Can’t say that I mind the fact that you bagged a Hale, kid, that’ll help. The Hale name still holds a lot of weight around here.”

“Did you hear that?” Stiles teased as he slipped the Crone’s grip and slid his own arm around the other wolf, nuzzling at Derek’s chin with his forehead in an attempt to ease the tense form. “You’ve made me respectable.”

Derek chuckled, an arm wrapping around Stiles’ shoulders – the exact spot where Margie had touched him earlier, the silly, possessive bastard – pulling him closer. “No one can make you respectable, Stiles.”

“Well, we can sure as hell try. Look it,” Stiles said as he eyed the very large, custom detailed semi-trailer that he could just make out around the corner of the house, “there’s a semi in the front lawn.”

“She’s a beaut, isn’t she?” Margie said cheerfully, accepting another beer from Deaton, “my kid did the custom paint job.”

“You’re a trucker?” Stiles sputtered. It was all almost too much for him, Scott was never going to believe him. “The local Crone is a trucker, that makes you so much cooler.”

Margie only tipped her beer at him before settling on one of the patio chairs. “My craft makes me travel a lot, might as well get a job that lets me get paid at the same time. She gestured to the hanging porch swing with the bottle, “come on, boys. Take a seat, let’s get to know each other.”

They’d only begun to broach the subject of witchcraft and how it was done, as well as the basic laws of the Coven, when Stiles caught a familiar scent on the breeze. He perked up from where he’d been leaning against Derek, eyes widening in surprise as Caleb Greenberg stuck his head timidly around the garage.

“Hey, Caleb.” Stiles greeted, pushing off the swing and making his way down the porch. He didn’t know why the teen was here, but it was best to get him away as soon as possible. “What’s up? You need something?”

Caleb shifted uncomfortably, eyes flickering from the wolves and humans gathered behind him before finally settling on Stiles. “Uh. Hey, Stiles.”

“Hey.” Stiles cocked his head to the side, brows furrowing. “Not to be rude, but did you need something? I’m kinda in the middle of something here and…”

Something seemed different about Greenberg, but as Stiles stared at him he was having a hard time pinning down what. He seemed the same as always; same shortly cut ginger hair, same freckle dusted skin (the kid had freckles everywhere, even on his lips), same tawny colored eyes…but something was different. And then Stiles smelt him.

_Coyote._

His mouth dropped open in shock. “No way, no freaken way! I would have smelt you!”

Caleb shrugged, crossing his arms behind his back. “We can mask it – all children of the trickster can. You didn’t smell Coach either.”

“Coach?!”

“Shut your mouth, Stilinski,” a gruff voice called out as Bobby Finstock turned the corner, dragging an _entire_ fucking deer behind him, “you look ridiculous.” He dropped the deer in front of Stiles, a clear offering, before cocking his head to the side. “So. You up the duff?”

“Coach!” Greenberg choked out with something a kin to horror, “you can’t just say stuff like that to the Alpha!”

“The hell I can’t,” Bobby spit out, looking amused at Caleb’s flaying, “you may be the big shot in town now, Stilinski, but on the field your ass is still mine.”

Stiles just gaped at them, he was fairly certain his mind had short circuited. “You’re a shifter too?”

“Of course I am,” Coach scoffed, “you really think the three of you could get away with the shit you pull on the field if I wasn’t? You aren’t exactly what I’d define as ‘subtle.’”

Caleb shrugged, “I wanted to tell you, honestly, but Coach here’s my Alpha and he – you know – didn’t think it was a good idea.”

“Wolves and coyotes don’t mix well.” Bobby said with a shrug and coyote's like their secrets, Stiles knew, but his feelings were still a little hurt. “And until you became an Alpha, there was no real reason for you to know. We’re a small pack as well. Just me and Callie here.”

Caleb whined, sounding a cross between mortified and annoyed, “you promised you wouldn’t call me that anymore, Uncle Bobby!”

And Stiles' world tilted again. “You - you two are related?”

“The brat’s my sister’s kid. You tell anybody and I will destroy you.” Coach said, his hand musing Caleb’s short locks in a far too rough pet. “He takes after his father’s side of the family; all bronze and no brains. Well. No bronze either, poor little runt.”

“Coach!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Bobby said, rolling his eyes as he stepped away from the younger coyote. “As you can see by the deer here, we’ve come to offer our submission. We’re willing to accept your position, to follow and obey and all that jazz, if you agree to respect our own borders and sovereignty. You agree to that?”

“Uh…yeah.” Stiles answered, eyes darting from one figure to the other, still completely blown away. To find out that Coach and Greenberg were related was crazy enough, but to find out that they’re also werecoyotes? Insane. Batshit insane.

This could not be real life, it was all too wild, like a poorly written TV drama. 

“Alright then. I like it when it’s easy. John, Margie, good to see you.” And just like that, Coach wandered over to where his father and the Crone were sitting, and the conversation was just done. Stiles wasn't sure if that had gone the way it was supposed to, but he had zero urge to get into a turf war with his Coach or teammate so he figured it went well enough. The wolf let his eyes fall to Caleb once more, looking at him with fresh eyes. Now that Stiles was looking for it he could see the unnatural flecks of amber in his eyes, the almost preternatural shape to Greenberg’s muscles. How had he missed this all these years?

“You mad?” Caleb asked, eyes downcast, fidgeting.

“No.” Stiles answered quietly, before reaching out and taking him by the elbow, leading him away from the porch and towards the running air conditioner. He pitched his voice low enough to be covered by the unit. “Caleb, that night in the woods…was that...you?”

The younger teen flushed completely red, up to the tips of his ears, before nodding. Greenberg had always been shy, despite the fact that he was pretty verbal guy. Stiles had thought it had to do with the fact that he’d skipped a grade – Caleb had only just had his fifteenth birthday last month - but now the wolf guessed that it was most likely because Caleb was an Omega. No, Stiles thought with a frown, he didn't have to guess, he could smell it.

Definitely an Omega.

Unlike Wolves, it was fairly common for Coyotes to head off on their own and exist without a pack, so the term ‘Omega’ meant something completely different in their culture. Rather, an Omega was the term they applied to their third breeders; the coyote equivalent of a Delta. Stiles had always tolerated Greenberg’s existence, but they'd never been close. But now facing the fact that the younger teen was not only another shifter but another third, Stiles felt a strange surge of protective fondness flare through him and wished they'd been better friends.

“I want to thank you then. If you hadn’t distracted Peter Hale, I probably wouldn’t have been able to get free.” Caleb turned even redder, scuffing his feet across the dirt. He looked very young there and for a moment Stiles wondered if he’d even had his first heat. “I wish you’d told me sooner, but it doesn’t matter. Me being the Alpha aside, we’re still friends, okay?”

“Yeah,” Caleb agreed, glancing up at him shyly.

“Oy,” Coach shouted from the porch steps, “ginger-boy, I forgot my cell phone so I need to use yours.”

Stiles frowned, watching with narrowed eyes as Greenberg tossed his cell easily across the distance to his uncle. “Does he always talk to you like he does at school?”

The Omega bit his lip, “it’s kind of hard to explain.”

“Try.”

The taunts were always funny at school, but that’s before Stiles had learned that the two were packmates and related at that. It wasn’t that Caleb needed to be handled with kid gloves, but he was a sensitive kid. They’d been in grief counseling together at school as Caleb’s mom had abandoned him a year or two before the Stilinskis had moved to Beacon Hill. And he knew that Greenberg’s sire wasn’t in the picture either. That just left Coach who was...well...a _dick_ to Caleb. No one at school even knew the two were related, for christsake. That was just...weird.

“Coach never liked my dad,” the Coyote started, voice hesitant, “my parents never pair-bonded, I guess...I guess they just really weren't suppose to happen   and when he left my mom got really depressed, starting going on longer and longer runs until one day she just didn’t come back. I think Uncle Bobby blames my dad for making her leave and…I really do take after my dad.” He tugged at his hair, “the hair and freckles and all. It’s cool, cause he’s hardly ever home. But, you know he’s not always like this. He’s kind, too, and he loves me. He just…doesn’t seem to be able to be that way in public.” Caleb finished weakly, shrugging sadly

Stiles felt guilt swell in his stomach.

Caleb had always wanted to be better friends with both him and Scott, but neither one of them had really wanted to be anything but school friends with what they'd seen as the overly clingy, ginger kid. It wasn’t just as shallow as the fact that Greenberg was massively unpopular despite being a starter (and fairly attractive) but there was always something off about him that drove people away. He always over shared and volunteered himself along on outings, which was really annoying, and talked way too much about everything and just seemed so needy all the time.

Stiles had never stopped to think _why_ Greenberg had been so desperate to be included, to share what was happening in his life with someone.

And despite the fact that he was never invited to anything or that no one ever took him up on his invitations to hang out (and here his guilt multiplied, because Scott and Stiles had made up an excuse about a group project to get out of Greenberg's birthday party last month), Caleb had always been kind and – well – a good friend. He’d clearly felt invested enough to intervene and save Stiles’ life - invested in a friendship that Stiles would have only defined as 'a relationship' in the loosest terms only a few days ago. It wasn't that Stiles was trying to be cruel, but he didn't deny that he jumped on the 'mess with Greenberg' bandwagon along with everyone else on the lacrosse team more than once.

The Delta swallowed around the thick lump in his throat, vowing in that moment that he was going to be a better friend. He reached out, gently placing his hand on the Omega’s shoulder. “Hey, it’s alright. I get it, you two have your own thing going on. Just…know that you can come over here, any time you want. Just drop me a text, alright?”

Caleb watched him guardedly. “Is all this just because you know I’m a shifter now?”

Stiles winced, but knew he deserved that. “Look, I’m not going to lie. You being a shifter and another third, that opens up a lot of things that would have been secrets between us. And you saved my life. But beyond all of that, I’d really like to get to know you better. And, well, to be a better friend. I’m sorry, Caleb. I’ve kind of been a dick to you for years.”

The red head’s shoulders slumped slightly, the weary tension draining out of them, before he gifted Stiles with a small smile. “You were nicer than everyone else.”

If Stiles had felt guilty before, he felt like absolute _shit_ now, and maybe it was his new Alpha disposition mixing with his natural tendency to mother hen, but Stiles felt the protective feeling in his chest grow even stronger.

“That’s some bullshit,” Stiles growled out, eyes flashing when he thought of the hazing the younger teen went through, silently vowing that it would be coming to an end now, “cause you deserve a hell of a lot more. You hungry? You smell hungry. And don’t block your scent so much. I don’t know how you do it, but that can’t be healthy-” not to mention it kept him from being able to tell if anything was wrong with Caleb, “- and there’s not much of a point now that we all know. Let’s get you a sandwich.”

“O-Okay.” Caleb’s smile was small but genuine, blushing still and leaning into the arm Stiles’ had thrown around his shoulders in a manner that screamed _‘touched starved_ ’ and he tightened his grip slightly, smile going tight around the edges and ignored the question look Derek threw him as he guided the Omega towards the food. He was beginning to get a picture of what life was like in the Finstock-Greenberg household and he wasn’t sure that he liked it. Benign neglect could suck just as much as physical abuse, especially on pack creatures. “Thanks, Stiles.”

“For what?” He asked as he began to pile food onto a paper plate.

“For being my friend.”

 _Jesus,_ Stiles thought, hiding his wince with the action of scooping a far too large spoon full of coleslaw, _I feel like such an asshole right now._

“No problem,” he managed, grinning too-wide against the guilt, “here, eat up, yeah?”

“Okay,” the Omega said quietly, taking the plate and sitting at the outdoor table set with Stiles. “How are you holding up?”

“This stuff is crazy.” Stiles answered truthfully, “but it is what is, I guess. What were you doing out in the reserve that night anyway?”

“The house gets pretty quiet sometimes, even when Coach is home, so I like to go for runs. Sometimes I meet up with non-shifter coyotes and we run together.” That…Stiles had literally never heard anything so sad and pathetic and lonely in his life – the poor kid had to go and find wild animals just to get someone to play with him – and Caleb seemed to know it, staring determinedly down at his food. “Anyway, have you seen Danny yet?”

Stiles frowned. “Danny? No, why would I? We broke up weeks ago.”

The fork froze halfway to his mouth as Caleb stared at him in disbelief. “He didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“You dated – he didn’t? How could he – that’s just…Stiles, the Māhealani are just like us; they’re canine shifters.”

The growl that ripped from his throat was low and furious, ending all conversation around them. _“What?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit is about to get real with Danny. What do you think of the revelations/interactions so far? And Greenberg? In my mind, Greenberg looks like this, with freckles and eyelashes like the second photo. Just younger then the model there. 
> 
> ****  
> ****  
> 
> 
> This chapter fought me. Seriously. Fought me long and hard.
> 
> In case anyone was confused, here's a review of Wolf pack ranks and Coyote ranks.
> 
> Wolves:  
> Alpha - Can be Male, Female or Thirds.  
> Beta - Can be Male, Female or Thirds.  
> Gamma - Can be Male, Female or Thirds. Someone who was prepubescent and therefore without a rank.Delta - A Third Gender, a mix between intersexed and a hermaphrodite.  
> Epsilon - Can only be Male or Females as they're Humans.  
> Omega - Can be Male, Female or Thirds.
> 
> Eye Color:
> 
> Blue - Born Werewolf  
> Red - Alpha  
> Yellow/Orange - Made Werewolf
> 
> Coyotes/Dogs  
> Alpha - Can be Male, Female or Thirds, but are almost exclusively Male.  
> Beta - Can be Male, Female or Thirds.  
> Gamma - Can be Male, Female or Thirds. Someone who was prepubescent and therefore without a rank.  
> Epsilon - Can only be Male or Females as they're Humans.  
> Omega- A Third Gender, a mix between intersexed and a hermaphrodite.They're not 'lone wolves' like with Wolf packs, because Coyotes and Dogs hunt and live alone fairly often in the wild.
> 
> Eye Color:
> 
> Red - Alpha  
> Yellow/Orange - Made and Born Coyotes, Dogs.


	4. To Be an Alpha, Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When his father moved to leave, Danny broke. “We need to talk, Stiles.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here with next chapter. Hope you guys enjoy, it's my Hobbit gift to you all, as it was my birthday!

**February 18th, 2011 - Sunday**

“How the hell could you not tell me?” Stiles’ voice was a shout, padded by the sound proofed walls of the heat room. From where he leaned against the wall, Derek crossed his arms, frowning fiercely. He had honestly never imagined that Stiles hadn’t known that Danny was a Dog – thus the frequent insults Derek used.

“I thought you knew.” Derek said truthfully and he watched as something like humiliated fear passed across Stiles’ face before his mate swung around to face John.

“But you knew didn’t you, Dad?”

John’s face was guarded as he held his hands up in placation. “Stiles, you know just as well as I do that it wasn’t my secret to tell.”

“Wasn’t your – are you out of your freaking mind?”

Derek fought the urge to flinch at the sharp tone, the words echoed by furious growl. Conflicting feelings were struggling in his chest, so different they could have been night and day in comparison. The Beta in him, his wolf at his most basic, wanted to lay flat and low – to present his belly and whine – at the sight of his Alpha’s anger. But the part of him that was Derek, the part of him that was the dominant partner in their matehood, wanted to reach out and hold Stiles, to keep his little mate safe and calm in his arms.

He chose to do neither of these things, watching as the argument built between father and son, nails digging into the flesh of his arms.

“You should have told me! Jesus, Dad!”

“It wouldn’t have been right, Stiles. You can’t just go about revealing things like that! I didn’t tell you about Coach Finstock or Caleb Greenberg either.”

“I wasn’t dating them!” Stiles snarled, eyes flashing ruby, “you are my father, you should have told me, damn’t. What if Danny and I had fooled around, what the hell would you have done then?”

Derek bit back the growl that wanted to tumble from his chest at that, gritting his teeth so hard his jaw ached. Danny had been a point of contention for him since he'd first shown up. The Dog’s scent had been all over Stiles’ room, on some of his clothes still, and Derek hadn’t been able to stop himself from erasing the markers with his own. It was one of the first things that told him how seriously he was considering Stiles. His instincts had known what was happening before it had ever become a fully formed, conscious thought.

And that night Danny had made Stiles cry…

“It would have been the same risk as if you mated a human, Stiles, you were just teenagers fooling around and-”

 _“Just teenagers?”_ The growl was so loud this time that both Betas jumped at it. “I thought I was in love with Danny, you know I thought that, and you didn’t think to tell me that he was keeping something this big from me?”

Derek stood from the wall, eyes narrowing wearily as Stiles advanced on his father, practically vibrating with his fury.

“Shit, this isn’t even about Danny right now, this is about you and me and our fucking relationship. How the hell can I trust you now? What else have you lied to me about? What else did you decide I was just ‘too much of a teenager’ to know? Huh? Huh!”

“Stiles!” Derek barked, breaking the rant and his mate’s head snapped over to look at him, blinking hard as if he’d completely forgotten the other Beta's existence. “Let him go.”

The Delta looked at him confusion before glancing back at his father and Derek could see the shock radiate across his features when Stiles realized he was holding John by his shirt front, pushing the taller wolf down at a harsh angle.

Stiles let go of his father so fast he almost dropped him, stepping back rapidly as he brought both hands up to rub at his face. “I’m sorry, Dad, I didn’t mean…look, I can’t talk about this right now. I’ve got to make a good impression on the cat-people and I can’t do that if I’m thinking about Danny or the fact that you’re a _liar.”_

“Stiles, son,” John started, voice weak, “I never meant to hurt you, you have to know-”

Stiles silenced him with a sharp hand gesture. “I. Can’t. Do. This. Not right now, okay? We can talk later tonight – you bet your butt we’re gonna talk later tonight. But right now I have to calm down.” He took a deep breath, running a hand over his short hair. “Look, is there anyone else that I should know about? Is the mail lady secretly a werebear or something? She’s hairy enough.”

“No,” John said softly as he stood, eyes troubled and regretful, “you’ve been introduced to all the supernaturals in the city as far as I know.”

“Okay.” Stiles took a deep breath. “Okay. Dad, go back upstairs please, keep them entertained – make sure I didn’t make Caleb have a heart attack. I need a second here.”

The moment that John left, Derek found himself being pressed against the wall, a mouth hungrily attacking his. He started, completely taken aback, but quickly got with the program, arms wrapping around Stiles’ lithe body, folding his own larger frame around his mate. The kiss grew even more heated, tongues delving sloppily into each other’s mouths, cocks half hard against each other and Derek took a handful of the Delta’s perfect ass, squeezing as their hips jutted against each other.

Before it could get utterly out of hand, Stiles pulled away, panting heavily. He looked perfect, cheeks flushed and red, eyes glazed with arousal, lips kiss-bruised to plumpness.

“What was that for?” Derek asked, voice gravelly with want.

“To thank you for being you. It doesn’t matter that Danny’s a shifter – it doesn’t change anything. Even if I’d known before, I’d still have chosen you.” Those beautiful eyes glanced up at him almost shyly, but were filled with such emotion that Derek felt his heart skip in his chest, before Stiles’ settled his forehead against the older wolf’s lips, hands entangling in Derek’s t-shirt as their heartbeats slowly returned to normal, their erections fading. “I don’t want anyone but you, this doesn’t change anything.”

Derek tightened his arms, pressing a kiss against his mate’s head. He hadn’t known how terribly he needed to hear those words until Stiles had said them, hadn’t realized how badly he needed to know that this revelation didn’t bring the other male into the picture again. If he lost Stiles – Derek knew he couldn’t survive it.

“Hey,” there was a tug on his shirt and the Beta realized he’d been growing, low and furiously, and he glanced down to find his little mate staring up at him worriedly. “Have you heard back from your friend? Jake? Jay?”

“Jason.” Derek corrected, feeling his heart lighten even more at the mention of the plans they had for their home. He brought a hand up to stroke at his mate’s cheek, running his thumb gently down the bridge of Stiles' nose. “Yeah, he’s flying out this week to take a look. He’s got some guys and a plan. He thinks it’ll take six months for the house and the two cottages if we have multiple teams.”

“The cottages?”

Derek shrugged, eyes softening as Stiles nuzzled into his touch, turning to kiss his fingers. “I figured John could have one, Scott and Jackson the other.”

“Keep the whole pack together, huh?”

“Safety in numbers.” Derek murmured, forcing the haunting memories of his family away. The time to mourn them had finally come to an end. While he was positive for Stiles’ sake (his poor, overwhelmed boy. If only Derek had been stronger, smarter, faster. If only he’d become Alpha so his mate didn’t have to handle all of this.) but the chances that the younger wolf was not pregnant was slim.

He’d have a family of his own again soon. Already did in Stiles and John. Had a pack with Scott and even Jackson, who seemed to gravitate to Derek more than anyone else in their group. He could understand that, Derek saw a lot of himself in the younger Beta. Jackson was very similar to how Derek had been before the fire. He had to let the fire go – he couldn’t afford to be ruled by it anymore, not when all of his energy was going to be pressed into protecting his new pack. He leaned down, pressing another kiss to warm, welcoming lips.

“I love you.”

Stiles let out a happy mew, nipping at his lips playfully. “I love you, too.”

The Lobizón were unique looking females – quite possibly the most beautiful women that Stiles had ever seen. Unlike Margie or Coach, both held themselves with the utmost grace and elegance, even though one of them was only three years old. Unlike most other shifters, Lobizón only had two genders – Alpha and Omega – and they were always male and female respectively. They formed pair-bonds just as strongly as their canine counterparts did, though it was apparently rather rare to find a pair that lived together or did more than meet up for a handful of months before separating again.

The Omega female introduced herself as Antonia Estela Robles-Sandoval, her voice holding the rolling accent of some sort of latin language, and was stunning. She towered over Stiles, easily at eye level with Derek, and had perfectly unblemished skin of a deep olive, her hair long and black and looked like spun silk. She was dressed in the latest fashions, seemingly more at home on the streets of New York or LA rather than the small town of Rockfell.

Her daughter, a pompous, proud little slip of a thing who proudly declared herself Teodora Isabela Robles-Del Bosque, the first (and why she added that seemed to mystify but amuse everyone, including her mother) was just as stunning with her short bob and daffodil yellow sun dress.

They were both coldly remote, but not in a way that seemed to imply rudeness. No, the best way that Stiles could explain it seemed rather obvious; everything about them was just _feline_. From the way they moved to how they spoke, to how they gestured and lounged – not sat – on their porch.

Antonia hadn’t wanted much from Stiles. She wanted his protection from other canine packs – though the feud had never been present in Beacon Hills, apparently, the rift between canine and feline shifters was an ancient one – as well as extra protection from hunters. Stiles gave them to her willingly, in return she agreed that she and her mate, Tomas, would serve as ambassador to the feline community on behalf of the Stilinski pack.

They were a welcome distraction from the furious spin of his mind; Stiles was utterly rocked by the revelation that not only was Danny not human, but his father had known. He was apparently a Dog shifter, a breed that no one was quite sure how came about, except that they must have branched off from the Wolf evolution in the same manner that Foxes and Coyotes had. It made sense and explained how he’d escaped Stiles’ notice. The Māhealani bred and kenneled dogs, Danny’s mother was also a vet and his ex had worked in both the office and the kennels. He always smelled of dogs. Stiles had just assumed…They would apparently be the last to arrive – long after everyone else had left. This was for two reasons, the least not being Stiles’ past relationship with Danny, but also because the Coyotes and the Dogs could barely stand to be in the same room.

Like Coyotes, Dogs could manage a full transformation and the two had several altercations in their animal forms that had left a bad taste in their mouths. It was apparently because their territories overlapped by a mile – a small amount in the scheme of things, but more than enough to cause issues for such territorial creatures. Though it appeared that the Māhealani knew that Coach was the Coyote Alpha, they were unaware that Greenberg was his other pack member, having only met Caleb in animal form and with the way the younger boy muted his scent in human form.

Bobby seemed less than willing to break that streak now, his eyes going hard and protective when Deaton had gently suggested it. It was a bit of a relief for Stiles, honestly, to see the defensive streak that the older Coyote had for Caleb. It seemed that while Coach may be a shitty parent, he was at least a decent enough Alpha.

They’d ended up grilling out, Stiles spending his time with a tiny Teodora metaphorically hanging from one elbow and an a clearly attention starved Caleb on his other. He had no idea what he’d done to grab the small Jaguar's attention, but it held through the night. Stiles didn’t mind it much, he liked kids and now that he had a better understanding of what was happening with Caleb, he tried to give the younger teenager as much attention as he could.

And he certainly didn’t mind the longing, heated way Derek watched him as he held and played with Teodora, cut up and helped her eat her hotdog, took her to the bathroom and helped her wash her hands. This could be his soon,  Stiles thought with an unexpected shudder of want, soon he could be helping wash tiny hands that were made up solely of him and Derek.

There was only one close call as the dinner had came to an end. Teodora had looked up at him, head cocked to the side, and in her cutesy, accented voice informed Stiles he smelled like dog poop. Forgetting himself, the new Alpha had shot back that she smelled like cat pee. Luckily, both Lobizón had thought it funny as hell, or else that could have been bad. The night had actually been a success, with the negotiations out the way they set about getting to know each other better. The adults all seemed to have a rapport already, so that really only left Stiles getting to know them, but it all went fairly smooth.

As the night drew closer to eight and the sun had set, they said their goodbyes (the deer was left in the back yard, Stiles knew that historically that was a correct gesture, but he was positive Coach had only did it to fuck with him) and Margie had driven off with a series of obnoxiously loud bellows of her truck horn, Stiles had to face reality once more.

He stood on the back porch, arms crossed, and took comfort in the sound of Jackson and Scott’s hearts beating in the distance, slow and steady with sleep, and the sound of his father, mate, and Emissary cleaning up inside.

Stiles made himself to take a deep breath at the sound of a car pulling into the driveway, forcing his newly formed instincts to heel. Regardless of how he felt, they needed this meeting to go smoothly.

So.

Secure the alliance first and then he’d handled Danny.

If Danny was one hundred percent honest, he didn’t really believe that Stiles had become an Alpha until he was sitting across from him at the Stilinski kitchen table, watching as his father negotiated their pack alliance. It seemed crazy – an impossibility – to imagine his boy an Alpha; Stiles had loved to be pinned, had loved to be handled. But there was no denying the blood red glow to his eyes as the Delta Wolf stared at them.

Stiles sat with his arms crossed, head tilted to the side as he discussed with Danny’s father, Andrew, his father standing behind him on one side and Derek Hale at the other. Stiles tone was firm, with an authority the Dog had never heard before, as he told his father that they were welcome in his territory, that he’d respect their pack lines and prosperity – but only if their ‘stupid, idiotic’ feud with the Coyotes stopped. His father had argued his point (the mangy asses had encroached on their territory, after all) but Stiles had won the argument easily.

“The Argents and their clan are the real threat here, Mr. Māhealani. We need to be a united front – all the supernaturals in this community – if we’re going to survive this. You know what they did to the Hales, do you really think they won’t do worse to you if they think you’re weak?”

Andrew had nothing to say to that.

And so the treaty lines were drawn up, submission shown and Danny began to think that Stiles wasn’t going to say one word to him – he hadn’t even looked at him. In that moment, sitting across from his ex, Stiles had never felt so far away from him. 

When his father moved to leave, Danny broke. “We need to talk, Stiles.”

“Danny,” Andrew barked, a warning growl echoing his words, “the Alpha doesn’t have time for your childish-”

“No, Mr. Māhealani. It’s alright.” And if you had told Danny a month ago that he’d see his father, his _Alpha,_ back down so quickly – that he’d see Andrew Māhealani all but present his belly to _Rupert Stilinski -_ he would have laughed in your face. But there it was.

Stiles stood, gesturing to the back hallway and Danny moved immediately, suddenly needing the fresh night air desperately. The back door shut with a click behind them and the silence that descended was so heavy it was painful.

“Alright, Danny,” Stiles said smoothly, “what do you want to talk about?”

Danny’s mouth was dry, his hands curling at his side as he stared at the Wolf helplessly. Stiles looked gorgeous before him, the red of his hoodie bringing out the rich, earth tones of his coloring beautifully, and Danny felt a surge of want so strong he knew he must be littering the air with it. But while Stiles was stunning, he was also covered in Derek Hale’s scent.

“You mated with him.”

“Yes.”

“Why?” It came hurt, betrayed, and Danny couldn’t deny that was how he felt.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” Stiles answered coolly, “if that’s all you’ve got to say-”

 _It should have been me!_ Danny wanted to scream. _That should have been us!_ It should have been his scent smeared across the Delta like a neon sign, should have been his possible pup growing inside Stiles’ body. It was supposed to be him.

“Why did you break up with me?” The Dog demanded, his voice hard, hands shaking with the force of his anger. “What the hell even happened to us, Stiles? What did I ever do-”

“I think you know the answer to that.” Stiles snapped, eyes flashing brilliant red before fading.

“No, Stiles,” Danny ground out and he should be being so much more careful than he was – so much more careful – because Stiles was an Alpha and even if Danny was in line to inherit after his father, he was still only a Dog and the Wolf was literally at the top of the food chain, but he couldn’t stop the words from pouring out, “I really fucking don’t.”

“There wasn’t anything you should of told me, maybe?”

“You broke up with me because I’m shifter? That’s a bit-”

“I broke up with you because I thought you were human, you dumb fuck!” Stiles snarled, eyes bleeding red again and this time staying that way. “I wanted to protect you from all of this shit. Protect you from me, from this world, from hunters – from _everything!_ ”

And just like Danny’s fury disappeared, his heart lurching from where it had relocated in his stomach, and he reached out on instinct, gripping Stiles' shoulders, the force of his grief and regret making him stupidly bold.

“Is that…Stiles…fuck I’m so sorry. I…”

The younger teen looked away, eyes squeezing shut as his jaw muscles flexed. “Why the hell didn’t you ever tell me, Danny? I just – I just don’t understand.”

The Dog felt his shoulders dip, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. “I…I wanted to tell you, Stiles, so bad. But I had so much to risk; my parents, my brother and sisters. I had to know if I revealed us that nothing bad could happen. I didn’t know if the Sherriff knew and…I was waiting for you to come to me, Stiles. I thought you’d come to me! Why didn’t you ever – why couldn’t you trust me enough to tell me?”

The noise that Stiles made was something that Danny honestly wished he’d never hear again. It was some unholy mix between a gasping whimper and a whine; a horrible pained sound.

“How is that fair?” His ex asked, voice a whisper. “How is that even remotely fair? Do you think I didn’t have everything to lose to? I risked exposing my dad – and yeah, maybe I don’t have as much family as you do, Danny, but I fucking love him just as much and I couldn’t even…I thought you’d think I was a freak. I’m a third, how do you even explain that to a human?”

“Oh, babe," Danny murmured, wiping at the tear that was trailing down Stiles’ cheek, “you’re perfect, I could never think of you like that.”

“How was I supposed to know that, Danny? How the hell was I supposed to even remotely know that?” The Wolf took a deep, shuddering breath, “I had so much more to lose than you. How could you even – how is it even fair that I had to come to you? I thought you were a _human._ I thought – and you knew we both weren’t! You knew that we were both shifters, that I was a Delta, that we could of…and _I_ had to come to _you?”_ Stiles let out a harsh, bark of a laugh, “how is that even fair?”

Danny had gone completely still; frozen. He’d never thought of it like that, but to hear it phrased so simply made it suddenly shockingly obvious. 

“How could you do that to me?” Stiles whispered, voice broken and etched with agony.

“I fucked up.” The Dog said desperately, “I see that, I know that. I can – we can’t just – it can’t end like this, Stiles. It can’t. I wanted to mate you, I wanted to have a family with you. Dogs and Wolves cross breed all the time, I…I can fix this.”

“No, you can’t.” Stiles said quietly, reaching up and gently pushing his grip off before taking a step back, eyes teary but hard. “I’m mated to Derek, Danny. I bonded. Whatever we had? Whatever we could have had? It’s gone. And I’m glad, do you know why? Because I could never mate with someone who would have asked of me what you did. You should have told me, Danny."

The Beta Dog let out a whine, reaching for Stiles again but he was already disappearing into the house. Danny whimpered, blinking hard against tears, and nearly jumped out of his skin when a warm hand rested on his nape; a gentle, reassuring scruffing. When his father had arrived, Danny didn’t know, but he also didn’t know how long he’d been standing there, staring at the closed door.

“Come on, son.” Andrew said softly, his eyes full of love and pity and grief for his eldest, “let’s go home, have some of that pie your brother made.”

“I should have told him,” Danny said, voice hoarse. “I should have told him – why the hell didn’t I tell him?”

His father didn’t answer, only drew him into a full body hug and Danny tucked his head into the crook of the Alpha’s neck, drawing in deep inhales of his comforting scent in a way he hadn’t done since he was a tiny pup.

"There will be others, I promise."

And there would.

Danny knew there would be.

But they wouldn't be Stiles.

The rink was abandoned and cold, and Allison shivered in her heavy fleece as she stared at the pristine ice. This week had been insane. Kate was dead and…and Allison didn’t know how she felt about that. Her parents were lying about it, that much was easy enough to figure out. The casket had been closed, so there was no real way for Allison to know the extent of the damage, but she knew it must have been extreme.

And then there was the arson and murder charges.

Kate had burned an entire family alive. And not just any family, Stiles’ boyfriend’s family, the Hales. How the hell was she supposed to handle that? She had no one to talk to either; her parents were wrapped up in their grief and her grandfather’s arrival, and Lydia was still in a coma. So it had been with no little amount of relief that Allison had accepted Boyd’s invitation to go out. Her parents weren’t keen on it, but they must have seen how badly she needed a distraction as they cases quick enough. 

“Allison.”

She turned to find Boyd approaching her with a cup of hot chocolate in each hand. She gave him a small smile, taking it gratefully, the smiling growing a minuscule amount when the taller boy drooped a blanket over her shoulders.

“Is it alright that we’re in here? You won’t get in any trouble?”

The smile Boyd gave her was devilishly handsome, half cocked to the side. “I practically live here, take the hours no one wants, so they give me a lot of leeway.”

He put a hand on her lower back and despite everything, Allison couldn’t help the slight shiver she felt at the movement, letting him lead her over to where a few more blankets had been spread over the cold metal bleachers.

Allison laughed at the food that had been laid out – vending machine items, all of them – like a cheap picnic. She accepted a bag of gummy bears, her smile even wider and felt the panic and grief that had been locked around her heart since Friday loosen. 

“So,” Boyd said after a moment, stretching his long legs out, “I know this is a hell of a stupid question, but how are you?”

Allison stared down at the chocolate that was warming her hands. “I’m…alright. Well, as alright as I can be. Things are crazy at the house. I mean, Kate being murdered is one thing – but to find out that she was a killer herself?” She shook her head, sighing. “I always knew that Kate was capable of questionable things; she just had this air about her, you know?” Boyd nodded slowly, his eyes distant but sharp with attention as he stared out over the ice. “And I just don’t know what it means, because I thought I knew her. She and I were really close, but she was always weird about some things,  really secretive,  but I never questioned it because I loved her.”

She didn’t mention that she was just as scared now of her relationship with her parents, because they did just as many strange and secretive things that they never explained and they had just as a much of a vicious streak as Kate.

“I love my dad.” Boyd admitted, voice a low murmur, “but he’s a bad person.” Those dark eyes glanced over at her, “you can’t help loving your family, Allison.” A hand reached out gently tuck her hair behind her ear, “there’s nothing wrong with you for loving who you thought Kate was.”

She felt herself lean into the touch, blinking against tears, unaware until that moment just how badly she’d needed someone to say that and really understand. Boyd had talked a little bit about his father and his drinking and his…and his hitting, so Allison knew he was being sincere. Another thing they shared, other than the loss of Lydia and Kyle. They both loved monsters.

“I’ve missed you,” He said, voice careful, a large palm cupping her cheek, “a lot more than I thought I would, considering we barely know each other.”

Allison felt her pulse quicken, carefully settling the cup down on the bleacher by her feet before bringing her gloved hand up to cover his. “I’ve missed you, too, Boyd.”

She felt herself blush hotly at the genuine, happy smile Boyd gave her. She bit her lip, hesitating, before deciding that she owed herself this, after everything that happened and who cared if it was moving a little fast when everything had been so terrible and this was so wonderful. Allison leaned forward, breath hitching when Boyd moved to meet her halfway, and let her eyes flutter shut at the warm caress of those beautiful, full lips. A hand curled around the nape of her neck, tugging her forward and she went with the move, ending up half sprawled in the large teen's lap, her own arms wrapping around Boyd’s shoulders.

They pulled away a few moments later, their soft pants appearing between them as little white puffs.

“Will you go out with me?” Boyd asked, his voice cracking slightly. Allison laughed before nodding, resting her forehead against his.

“As long as you don’t make me watch Doris Day.”

The booming laughter that earned was worth the corny, cheap quality of the joke. Allison took a deep breath, feeling as if it was the first one she’d taken since the police had shown up at their home, and leaned in for another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, the wonders ad terrors of young love. You all still hate Danny? The Ballison is about to get more involved, so it may seem simple now but it'll have more of a chance to develop into an actual relationship.
> 
> Added AN: Hehe, lots of you are super pissed at Danny. (You should be, ::cackle::) But I'd like to point out that I'll be exploring more of what Danny was thinking later. But, as I pointed out to Nuphar in the comment thread, he has his reasons.
> 
> Danny was totally in the wrong. But he's also only seventeen and that's pretty young. Even as a shifter, he didn't know why Stiles broke up with him - they can scent emotions in the vaguest terms but not the reason behind it. What Stiles was really afraid in telling (what he thought) was human Danny was that all it would take - really - was for one wrong person to overhear Danny talking about it - and he could expose his family not only to hunters but a enemy pack. On Danny's part, I think he was more afraid of the idea of revealing himself to Stiles and exposing his family to another hostile pack. The Dog pack has a very bad relationship with the Coyotes, he didn't want to risk anything.
> 
> That being said, Danny was asking something selfish and unreasonable. But again, he's young - teenagers are fairly selfish, hell people in their twenties are still pretty selfish. It takes time. Don't worry, this won't be the last we hear the subject of Danny's choices.


	5. To Grow a Pack, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that he wasn't lost in the madness of rut, it struck Jackson all at once that this - this was his forever. That Scott was his. His mate, his husband.
> 
> Jackson's.
> 
> Just Jackson's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait guys.
> 
> Here's the next chapter, unbeated.

**February 19th, 2011 – Monday**

The sound of the forest was filled with the cheerful call of morning birds, much to Jackson’s annoyance. The Beta’s face scrunched at the light filtering through the tent before rolling onto his side, curling even further around his mate’s supine body and hiding his face in the dark shadow of Scott’s neck. The younger teen didn’t even stir.

They’d fucked each other into absolute exhaustion, their bodies relentless and unyielding as it drove them to mate again and again, to knot and spill their seed, despite the fact that both knew it was impossible for either to actually impregnate anyone. But Jackson was fine with that. He’d meant what he said to Scott; if they ever wanted children, they could adopt.

Jackson curled tighter around Scott, one arm looping around his waist while the other served as an impromptu pillow for the blond’s head. He rested the hard line of his morning wood against Scott’s pert ass, nestled between the naked curves, but felt no urge to dip into the swollen passage and mate. For once, the rut fell victim to logic and Jackson willed himself to give Scott as much sleep as he could get.

He was just on the edge of falling back asleep, feeling sated and peaceful and more content then he could remember in a very long time when he heard the soft cadence of feet approaching the camp.

Jackson stiffened, glowing blue eyes flashing open as they snapped to the tent flap. Their ruts were still in swing, though it seemed to finally be calming down enough for them to function like normal human – er, wolf – beings. But just because they were no longer beating the shit out of each other or fucking their brains out until hunger and thirst was a far off, lost concept didn’t mean that Jackson was any less territorial.

He carefully detangled himself, glancing at his still dead to the world mate, before yanking on a pair of gym shorts, tossed the edge of the sleeping bag over the naked form, and quietly stepping out of the tent. He stood just at the entrance, his entire frame tense and stretched to its full size, and stared in the direction the trespasser was coming from. A low, warning growl tumbled from Jackson’s chest, but instead of scaring off their visitor, it only earned him a laugh.

“Don’t take that tone with me, young man,” Stiles joked, a quirked smile on his face as he stepped into the clearing, eyes bleeding red before he’d even finished his sentence.

“Stiles.” Jackson said curtly, feeling his body relax without conscious thought, the fight seeping out of it as if it had never been there. His head cocked to the side, taking in the sight of the fully coherent wolf. “Alpha.”

The smile muted itself slightly. “Yeah, you don’t have to do that. Sorry about the other night, I know I was…you know…beserking or whatever. Hormones, I’m sure you understand.”

“It’s fine…glad to have you back.” And, to Jackson’s surprise, he meant those words. Stiles was such a huge part of Scott’s life and just maybe the Alpha wasn’t as annoying as Jackson had once thought. “You and Derek?”

There was a slight blush, Stiles reaching up to itch at his nose as he nodded and Jackson congratulated him, once again surprising them both by the truth of his words.

“I’m happy Scott’s got you,” the younger wolf said, smile warmer as he glanced through the open tent to his friend’s prone from, “of course, you know if you break his heart I’m going to rip yours out.” Which he could probably do now as the Alpha, Jackson mused, but nodded anyway. “Good! Creepy, overprotective threatening over – real talk. It’s Monday and school starts in an hour. How’s everything on the biological front? You ready to wrap everything up?”

Jackson’s face darkened at the very thought of leaving their little haven, of anyone else touching – fuck, even _seeing_ – Scott. Of that musky, perfect smell of their mixed scents being tainted by anything. He didn’t seem to mind Stiles. In fact, the other wolf’s scent only seemed to make their mix that much sweeter, calmer.

Perhaps because he was their Alpha now?

Stiles sighed. “I’m gonna take that face as a no.” He ran a hand through his short hair, rubbing his scalp a few times. “Alright.” He sighed again. “Alright. You think it’s going to be over soon?”

Jackson frowned. “This shit doesn’t come with a manual, Stiles.”

“Yeah, yeah. Okay, stay. Finish what you need. It’s really important no one interrupts your first rut – for the bonding – so that’s got to be a priority. I’ll…I’ll figure out what to tell the school, but you need to tell me what to say to your parents.”

His parents.

_His parents_.

Holy shit, they were going to flip their shit when he didn’t show up for school. He was supposed to call them last night and Jackson hadn’t even thought – hadn’t been able to think –

There was a rustle from inside the tent, followed by a sigh that quickly turned into a quiet little moan as Scott shifted. Jackson glanced behind him, feeling his cock reawaken with a vengeance at the sight of his still sleeping mate on his stomach, hips rolling gently as he rocked, his ass undulating as he ground his cock into the sleeping bag. Jackson swallowed harshly at the sight, eyes locked on the way each hump revealed more and more naked flesh to his eye.

“Stiles-” the Beta managed to croak out, glancing back at him, torn because he knew there was no way his parents would believe anything Stiles had to say, but his Alpha only gave him a strained smile as he nodded towards the tent.

“Go on. I’ll…I’ll think of something.”

And in that moment, Jackson had never been so grateful to anyone in his life. He didn’t even wait to see if Stiles left, disappearing into the tent, nearly ripping the feeble flap as he zipped it, yanking his shorts off. His eyes were locked on those sweet, sweet hips as he lubed his cock (they’d gone through five bottles and that was probably something else he had to thank Stiles for, because a whole basket of them had appeared on the edges of the campsite the first night) hand spreading the slick generously.

Scott’s hole was swollen and red, still slightly puffy and open from their last mating, only a handful of hours before. Jackson wasted little time before lining himself up, sinking knot deep on the first push, eyes squeezing in disbelief at the hot tightness that wrapped around him, despite being so well acquainted with the intimate passage. Scott let out a whimper, jerking awake, claws digging into the already shredded sleeping bag and sending them both into loud curses as the startled movement tugged at where they were connected.

“Jax.” Scott breathed, legs spreading wider as he bowed his head back, searching for a kiss desperately. Jackson met the eager lips just as fervently, loving everything about his mate’s taste (even tainted by the sour mouth of morning) and began to pump in earnest. Jackson clutched at the tent floor, claws slicing through the tough fabric and curling into the soil below and the older wolf gasped, breaking the kiss to let his head fall forward, completely taken in their mating.

The sex would be short; already Jackson could feel his orgasm approaching and lowered himself down, resting all his weight on his forearm as he slid a hand beneath his writhing mate to fondle and squeeze the swollen cock, the flesh so full Jackson could feel Scott’s heartbeat. Unlike the fevered fucking of the last few days, Jackson felt completely aware of everything. Every inch where the two touched, every scent, every nuance to Scott’s panting breath, and to the rough, all-encompassing swell of emotion that wracked his body. It made the sex so much deeper, so much more than sex. Now that he wasn't lost in the madness of rut, it struck Jackson all at once that this - this was his _forever._ That Scott was his. His mate, his husband.

Jackson's.

Just Jackson's.

Underneath him Scott went utterly still, breath catching before letting out a wrecked, keening whine as he came almost violently. Jackson followed almost immediately, all thought swept away by the extreme way his mate's body caught and locked around his knot. The Beta barely had enough foresight to grip Scott’s knot, comforting the swelling flesh in the protective, tight grasp of his fist before collapsing forward, utterly robbed of all coherency.

“I'll talk to John and we’ll figure something out by the end of the school day.” Deaton assured, voice level and Stiles leaned against the side of the Camaro, nodding even though the Emissary couldn’t see him.

The fact that Jackson and Scott’s rut was still in swing complicated everything. His father could call their absence in, but then the school would call the Whittemores to tell them that the Sheriff had their son. They would be more lenient with Scott – everyone knew that John was Scott’s pseudo-father and helped out the beleaguered and overworked Ms. McCall. But even Melissa would notice something when she came home from her shift and found an empty house. During the weekend that was easily explained away, but she’d want Scott home after letting him ‘camp’ out for three days. Once more, the new Alpha felt incredibly grateful for both his father and his Emissary, as he had no idea how to go about handling this.

“Alright, we’re at school. I’ll call at lunch?”

“I’ll keep an eye out for the phone,” Deaton assured. “And Stiles, remember – Wednesday.”

“Yeah, Wednesday.” 

Wednesday.

Wednesday, when Stiles would take the blood test, when he would know if they were going to be fathers. He swallowed, aware of how Derek had gone completely still from where he was standing in front of him.

“It just…seems really soon.”

“It takes about eleven days for hCG to show up in humans via blood test, but the wolf equivalent takes half that time to metabolize.”

“R-Right,” Stiles stuttered. “So, right after school Wednesday.”

“Yes, that would be best.” There was a short silence, then, “it’s better to know, Stiles. Have a good day at school.”

“Yeah.” He said softly, staring down at where his hand was splayed across his stomach in thought. Stiles was both terrified and enthralled by the idea of a pup and couldn’t help the way his hand stroked over the covered skin in thought. “Thanks, Doc.”

Stiles flipped the cell phone shut, slipping it into his pocket and glanced up at his mate, lips twisting into a fond smile at Derek’s concerned look. He stepped forward, sliding his arms around his mate’s waist as he tipped his head back for a kiss. An arm wrapped tightly around him, Derek’s lips slightly chapped but warm from his morning coffee. A nearly silent growl of dislike was rumbling from his mate’s chest.

“It’ll be okay.” Stiles’ assured, pressing a number of fleeting kisses across his mate’s chin. He knew that this was a strain for Derek. Even though they both knew Stiles could more than take care of himself, their recent mating and the Delta’s possible pregnancy was making Derek’s protective instincts go haywire. If the surly Beta had his way, Stiles would remain at home for the next week - if not longer. “It will be, I promise.” He nuzzled his mate’s chin, “now go on, you’re going to be late for your interview.”

Derek grumbled before reluctantly pulling away, his eyes bright with concern. A hand reached up to brush across his cheek before cupping it. Stiles couldn’t help but learn into the touch, his eyes fluttering shut in pleasure at it. They’d gotten to school early and so neither were terribly worried about PDA and even if they hadn’t, Stiles suspected neither would have cared very much, the recent mating pushing away the caution of being too open, unworried of how it may have looked with their genders or age differences.

But Derek really did need to go. He was going for an interview at the police station, though Stiles had little doubt he’d get into the training program immediately with both John and Hunter pulling for him. Hunter was a good cop - and a better man - and the human deputy was the best trainer they had. Stiles truly believed Derek would be happier once he had something to focus all his excess energy on.

You know, besides stalking Stiles all the time.

Still, even if the job was assured, it looked bad to be late. He gently stepped away, putting a little bit more force behind his words. “Go on, knock’m dead.”

“You call me-”

“If anything goes wrong, I know. We talked about this last night. And this morning. And just now in the car.” Stiles teased, sliding on his book bag. “I’ll text you all day, to keep in touch. Try to answer back with more than one word, okay?”

He waited on the sidewalk until the Camaro drove off, grinning at the way even the car seemed to hesitate as it picked its way through the parking lot. Rolling his eyes in genuine affection, Stiles made his way towards the front door. Pausing only once (at the sight of Vernon Boyd and Allison Argent, giggling happily on one of the side benches as they shared a Starbucks cup because when the hell did that happen?) before heading towards the steps.

A strange scent caught his attention, causing the wolf’s nose to wrinkle. It smelled mostly of unwashed skin; of layers of filth and sweat and…trash? But underneath it all was wolf. Stiles felt his hackles rise, eyes flickering to the parking lot entrance with the brief thought of calling Derek back.

But Derek needed this job and the wolf smelled of weakness and sick and underneath it all the unpleasant smell of blood – period blood. And Omega, most likely, and a third or a female by the smell of it. Confident that he could handle one weak Omega, Stiles tracked the scent around the side of the school building and felt his eyebrows rise at the sight of a figure bent over in the cafeteria dumpster. It was a male (a third, like himself, Stiles noted with no small amount of interest) and was dressed in clothing that should have been thrown away a long time ago.

As he watched, the figure stiffened, going completely still, before pulling itself free. The Omega looked worse than he smelled; his hair and beard knotted and crazy, eyes wide and wild as it stared at him. He seemed old, about his dad’s age so at least in his forties, and looked like he’d been bathing in trash. He was also incredibly skinny and underfed, and Stiles felt pity fill him as he took in the cowering form and the half eaten, slimy hamburger held in his hand.

“A-Alpha. I…I meant no disrespect, I…I would have declared myself but I didn’t know who – where…I…mean…” The Omega was stuttering so much Stiles could barely understand him and he let out a low huff. The foreign Delta fell silent immediately, eyes downcast as he tilted his neck to the side.

“You picked a bad time to come to Beacon Hills, my friend.” Stiles mused, cocking his head to the side, “this place is crawling with hunters. And while I may look young, make no mistake that I’ll snap your neck like a twig if you fuck with me.”

The Omega’s eyes widened, the air around them going putrid and acidic with fear, and he almost regretted his words. Almost being the key word there. It was important thisbOmega know what kind of danger he was in. And that he should be scared of Stiles. Stiles had no idea why this wolf was an Omega. Was his pack killed? Was he driven from his pack? Did he never have one? It was rare, but sometimes rogue Omega or Alpha’s just bit at will and left their charges behind like so much garbage.

“No, Alpha. I…I would never…I came,” the Omega swallowed, “I came because I was hoping to –I came to give a warning. And perhaps, if it was – that is, if I...” His shoulders slumped.

“You want to join my pack.” The Omega nodded mutely. Stiles stared hard at him, eyes narrowed, before sighing and turning. “And your warning?”

“The Alpha Pack…they’re coming to Beacon Hill.”

_Well,_ Stiles thought dryly, _that sounded ominous._ He had no idea who or what the Alpha Pack was. Hell, by its very name it was a contradiction, before letting out a sigh. “What’s your name, Omega?”

“Adam...Adam Brumley.”

“And when was the last time you had a meal? I mean a decent meal; fresh meet, good carbs?” The Omega looked away, embarrassed. Stiles sighed again, before fishing out his cell once more. The school was going to flip their shit, but this needed to be handled. While Stiles may not trust the Omega, he wasn't willing to condem him to death just yet. If the Argents found him – or even a member of his own pack – Adam Brumley would easily cease to exist. He dialed the number, keeping his eyes pinned on the fidgeting Omega. “Deaton? Yeah, I need you to give me a ride home.”

“I do have a day job, Stiles.” The Emissary said with a sigh and the sound metal scraping on metal almost overtook his voice as the veterinarian prepped his workspace.

“Yeah, I know, I’m sorry. But I’ve got an Omega here – an Adam Brumley – and he’s talking about some Alpha Pack.”

The silence on the other line was almost as telling as the slight hitch in Deaton’s breathing. “I’ll be there in ten minutes. Keep him out of sight.”

The house was filled with the smell of soap – Stiles’ scented shampoo and conditioner, body wash, shaving cream – and the sharp, overwhelming smell of whatever poultice it was that Deaton was constructing in their kitchen, paired with the delicious smells of the crockpot. The Omega, Adam, sat clean and freshly showered on a stool in front of Stiles, carefully shaving as the Alpha trimmed his hair.

He’d done it more than once over the years for Scott and his dad, and Stiles liked to think he was pretty skilled at it. He had to cut off a lot, some tangles and knots were impossible to comb out, but to be honest Adam looked better with it short.

As they both worked on grooming him, the Omega told him his truly heartbreakingly tale. Adam had been driven from his territory after his pack had been destroyed. He had been happily mated to a Beta since he was sixteen and had three children – all dead – who had been only a handful of years older than Stiles. To hear Adam tell it, his life had been idyllic until the arrival of the Alpha pack.

Who, it appeared, where a group of Alphas running together who were obsessed with wiping out all other packs. They apparently showed up and left the Alphas they found with an ultimatum; kill their pack and join them or die.

Adam had barely escaped with his life. But his mate, his children…

Stiles felt his heart ache for the older Omega – not once had his heartbeat stuttered or jerked. He almost wished for it to be a lie. He stayed by the older wolf’s side as it was clear that his presence was calming, though whether that was because he was another third (his grandfather had always told him that Deltas and female Betas tended to gravitated around each other) or because he was an Alpha, Stiles was unsure. When he heard the sound of a car pulling into the driveway, he left Adam with Deaton, the doctor applying some mean looking paste to an open, ugly bite wound on the Omega’s shoulder.

He met what could only be described as a livid Derek at the door.

“Derek–”

“What the hell is this?” The Beta snarled, eyes flashing as he glared past Stiles and towards the kitchen, an arm wrapping possessively - protectively - around his waist. He leaned into the touch, ducking his head to nuzzle at a broad shoulder in an unhidden and blatant appeasement act. “Who the hell is that?"

“An Omega–”

_"What?"_

“He has nowhere to go and-”

“You promised you’d call!”

“He’s weak, I knew I could take him if I needed–”

“Do you have any idea how dangerous this is? You should have called me! What the hell where you–”

_“Enough.”_ Stiles growled, the word slicing through the air like a knife and he knew his eyes were glaring red up at his mate as he pulled back. “He came here with a warning, Derek, for us – for _me._ He’s harmless and hurt, an old, beaten Omega who needs help. I’m not an idiot. I listened to his heartbeat, I threatened – trust me, I threatened – and I called my emissary. All of things you would have known if you would have just _stopped interrupting me.”_

Derek stared at Stiles’ angry face, eyes wide, before steadily, purposely, dropping his gaze to the ground. “…I was just worried. Coming home to the house smelling wrong after everything that’s happened, after Peter.”

Stiles sighed, his irritation leaving him with the exhale, and pressed back into his mate, kissing at Derek’s pulse beat. “I know. I’m sorry I yelled. Look, he’s got some scary shit to say and someone seriously went to town on him. He said his pack was killed off by a group calling themselves the ‘Alpha Pack,’ who as you might have guess are…all…Derek? Do you know what he's talking about? ”

He'd gone completely still, his skin pale underneath his tan. “Did he say they were coming here?”

“That appeared to be the implication.” Stiles swore loudly. “Jesus, Derek! You do know about this!”

“We need to call John and-”

“No need,” Deaton called, voice strained as he walked into the room, “he’s on his way. As are the Whittmores apparently.”

“They’re already here.” Derek said darkly, frowning heavily as he peered around the window kitchen blinds before frowning heavily, brows low in confusion. “They’ve parked at the end of the drive, why would – _shit!_ They’ve gone into the woods.”

Stiles paled – his Betas were still in rut, they’d eat them alive! – and bolted towards the door.

Scott let out a sigh as he stretched, hands clasped and reached above his head, body an elongated line as he stood on his tip toes. The rut has almost passed and all that remained of it was a warm, satisfied glow. Scott felt well fucked, positively hedonistic, and the Beta was sure that he’d never felt so content in his life. Seriously, the words ‘warm’ and ‘fuzzy’ could be applied liberally to him at this moment.

Arms slid around his waist, his mate’s form sliding against his own like they were two matching puzzle pieces, and a warm mouth locked onto his the column of his throat. Scott’s mouth twitched into a far too self-satisfied smile as he arched into the touch, letting his head rest on Jackson’s shoulder so he could crane his neck and expose as much of the flesh as possible.

They were both naked from the waist up, clad only in gym shorts, and Scott practically purred at the feel of so much warm skin pressed against his own.

“Jax.” Scott moaned and had it been any other time but his rut he would have been embarrassed by the sappy tone. There was a hum against the skin of his neck, a wide hand sliding up the tight sculptured muscle of his abs before settling with worrying Scott’s nipple. “Feels ni _ce-oh.”_ Scott gasped, legs spreading as fingers slid up his thigh, moving the fabric aside and inching higher. “Oh. Oh…”

“Still love those sounds you make, baby,” his mate murmured against the skin of his neck and Scott let out a moan as the fingers probed between his cheeks, a tip circling the closed pucker. “You’ve healed up so tight,” Jackson said, awed, “you were gaping, fucking gaping. Couldn’t keep what I gave you in.”

“Your f-fault.” Scott gasped out, feeling his hole clench and unclench at the teasing. He let out a long, almost languished sounding whine as his mate pressed a finger – his long, _long,_ middle finger – in. It was dry (they’d finally broken down and bathed in a nearby creek, thoroughly inside and out, though both seemed to loath the idea of washing the cum away, even if it was dried and flaking) but it was still a comforting, pleasurable touch and Scott was already hardening.

They were so caught up in each other, that neither heard the sound of approaching footsteps until they were nearly upon them. Both wolves stiffened, the finger deep inside him stilling before gently pulling out.

“Humans,” Scott announced with a snarl, “hunters?”

“Worse.” Jackson growled, disappearing into the tent and tossing a t-shirt at him as he pulled his own on, “it’s my parents.”

True to his words, the Whittemores appeared a moment later. They pair took one look at the campsite, at their state of half dress and the vivid bite mark on Scott’s neck that had healed resemble an angry hickey, and their already stormy faces grew only darker. Though they may not have been related by blood, the pale anger on William Whittemore’s face was a carbon copy of the expression of Jackson’s. Mrs. Whittemore was no better, her face drawn and pale and _furious._

Thier presence grated on Scott's nerves, making him feel flushed and anxious, and the feeling only grew as they stepped further off the path and into their territory. If Scott had actual fur it would be standing on end, bristling, and only the fact they smelled so heavily of Jackson and that they were his parents kept him from reacting to their arrival. Jackson seemed little better, if the way his body stiffened and hands fisted at his side said anything.

“What the hell do you think you were doing? Staying out all night, skipping school?” Mr. Whittemore shouted, face and neck red. “We were worried sick! The school called, the Sherriff’s called you in _sick?”_

“This is unbelievable, Jackson,” Mrs. Whittmore said just as angrily, “even for you. I’m glad that you’ve figured some things out about yourself but that does not give you the right to play hookie.”

“You’re damn right it doesn’t." William Whittemore snapped, “I’m not going to have you throwing your life away on some…some _boy toy.”_

“Will.” Mrs. Whittemore sighed in exasperation at the same moment Jackson snarled, “He’s _mine.”_

Kate Whittemore threw her hands up in frustration, rearing on her husband angrily. “This is your fault, Will. I told you – more therapy. Everyone told us more therapy."

“He doesn’t need more therapy,” Mr. Whittemore said, “he’s needs an ass kicking."

“William!”

“If you hadn’t babied him so much, _Kathrine_ , this wouldn’t be happening!”

“I don’t give a shit what either you think I need.” Jackson growled, hands fisting at his side, grey eyes practically blazing, "he needed me here. I needed me here. And he's not a boy toy, I love him.”

“You’re eighteen, you don’t what love is!” Jackson’s father said, eyes livid and furious, but Scott was barely paying him any attention. His eyes were locked on Jackson.

“What did you say?” Scott's voice was soft, terribly soft, and vulnerable. Despite their recent mating, despite how many times Scott had said those words – had seen the answer reflected in his boyfriend's eyes – Jackson had never said it.

Scott had never thought Jackson would _ever_ say them.

His mate had gone completely still, blushing so bright that even his neck and cheeks were red, and Scott would never have guessed that an embarrassed Jackson Whittemore could be so fucking cute. Scott crossed the small space of their campsite in a handful of steps, throwing his arms around Jackson’s waist as he pressed flush against him. "What did you say?"

Jackson hesitated for only a moment, a thumb coming up to brush over his chin. “I love you, Scottie.”

“I love you, too.” Scott croaked around the lump in his throat, and fought a whimper as an arm wrapped around him, his own grip becoming so tight it had to border on painful.

“Oh, that’s enough.”Jackson’s father snapped. He slapped his son on the back of the head hard enough for the blond’s forehead to almost slam into Scott’s.

“Don’t you _fucking_ touch him!” Scott snarled, the Change pulsing under his skin as rut heightened instincts reared violently as he pushed Mr. Whittemore away, sending the human flying backwards. Jackson’s mother screamed, her hands flying to her mouth as she watched her husband rocket backwards before slamming into the ground hard.

Everything in the clearing froze; from the wind in the trees to Scott’s heart.

Kate Whittmore was were staring at him, horror-struck, from where she was standing. From where he was still sprawled out on the dirt, Mr. Whittemore’s face was no better. The man was staring up at Scott as if he was the devil himself and it wasn't until that moment that he realized the world had sharpened into almost painful clarity. 

“What are you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the plot builds! What do you think of our resident new Delta? Check out his actor profile photo, he actually is pretty attractive all cleaned up. He's the Omega Jackson yells at in the show when he finds him digging through the trashcan at school. Did you like our Jackscott?


	6. To Grow a Pack, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The whole pack is Alphas?”
> 
> “Supposedly.”
> 
> “The _whole_ pack?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeated.
> 
> So sorry for the wait, guys! Here's an extra long chapter as an apology. Hopefully I'll have the next part out within the next few days.

**February 19th, 2011 – Monday**

“He’s a werewolf.”

Stiles’ voice cut through the thick silence like a knife. His Betas were drawn tight, tense. Jackson and Scott were wrapped around each other, though he didn’t fail to notice that Scott held a hand free, ready to strike if necessary, and both were watching the Whittemores suspiciously. At the sound of his voice, both wolves’ heads snapped over to stare at him and the Alpha was relieved to see the tension bleed from their forms at his arrival.

It wasn’t much but considering they were still in rut, it was more than Stiles had been expecting. Hell, the fact that no one was dead was more than what he was expecting. Mr. and Mrs. Whittemore gaped at him.

“Excuse me?” Mrs. Whittemore asked, voice incredulous.

“You heard me,” Stiles said, voice calm and steady, and felt his own tension lessen as his father, Derek, and Adam came to stand on either side of him. “He’s a werewolf. In fact, everyone here except for you is one.”

“You can’t possibly expect us to believe that.” Mr. Whittemore scoffed as he stood, movements stiff.

“He’s telling the truth.” Adam offered quietly, eyes locked on the Betas.

With the attention off of them, the bonding pair had seemingly become lost in each other once more. Jackson had cupped the brunet’s face, thumbs brushing over Scott’s cheeks while the younger teen stared, seemingly utterly entrapped, up at the other. The rut should be dying down, but it seemed that the invasion of outsiders – even if they had been Jackson’s own flesh and blood – had caused a resurgent.

It appeared that Adam was thinking the same thing, as he gestured and gave the humans a disarming smile. “I think it’s best if we talk about this back at the house.”

“There is nothing to talk about!” Mr. Whittemore shouted, causing his wife to flinch and lay a calming hand on his arm, murmuring to him softly. “No I will not calm down, Kate. And I’m not leaving here without Jackson.”

“Jackson’s not going anywhere.” John interrupted, voice stern. “Will, let’s go back to the house-”

“The hell he isn’t. I don’t give a fuck if you’re the Sheriff, he’s _my_ son, who if he knows what’s good for him better get his ass in the car _right now.”_

“I think,” Stiles said slowly, letting his eyes bleed red, “that you should keep your voice down.”

He could see the moment the humans realized that every pair of eyes in the clearing were glowing, an assorted coloring of neon ambers, blues, and red. The Whittemores paled, Kate Whittemore clinging to her husband’s hands so tight it looked painful.

“Come to the house,” John repeated, “and we’ll explain everything. But Jackson isn’t going to go anywhere with you. If you try to take him from his mate right now, they’re going to kill you.”

“Mate?” Kate whispered, voice faint.

John sighed. “Come on, Kate. I’ll put some coffee on, this is going to take a while. In fact, we might as well call Melissa over as well. She’s been calling me on the hour, wanting to know where Scott is.”

Stiles echoed his father’s sigh and gave Adam a wan smile when the other Delta rested a gentle hand on his shoulder in support. Adam gave the Whittemores another calming smile. “I promise, that this is nothing near whatever it is you’re thinking.”

Mrs. Whittemore nodded, eyes still locked on her son’s lost expression, before pulling her equally shell-shocked looking husband along with her. Stiles was the last to leave the encampment and the Alpha glanced at the two wolves.

“Guys.” It was almost jarring how easily his voice seemed to break through their haze, gaining their attention easily. “I know you can’t really control this but…I need you, alright? So just…try for me, okay?”

Both Betas blinked at him, before Jackson snorted and buried his face in his mate’s neck. But Scott gave him a warm smile and he found himself instantly replicating it. “I promise, Stiles. I got your back.”

Melissa was waiting for them back at the house, looking furious and Stiles winced as he gave the angry woman a weak smile. It took some convincing to get her to wait until they went inside to get answers and John had to physically restrain her from storming out into the woods once she learned that Scott was out there.

She was worried about drug use.

Stiles almost felt like crying at the painful hilarity of it.

The conversation went down just about as well as Stiles had expected it too. Melissa had taken it all at slightly better face value, waiting a full ten minutes before demanding visual proof. All three wolves in the room shifted at ease, which had set the nurse into a nearly three minute bout of slightly hysterical babbling that sounded more pissed and confused than actually scared. Deaton had done the bulk of the explaining as, surprisingly, had Adam. It seemed that the older Delta had a knack for words, soothing and explaining away the human’ls' anxiety, and Stiles would have to have been blind to have missed the sharp, evaluating glances his father and Derek sent him. Adam sat next to Stiles at the table, sipping his coffee between calm explanations and soft reassurances.

“So, you’re telling me that for all intents and purposes that my sixteen year old is a… a Werewolf… and married.” Melissa managed, gripping her coffee cup tightly.

“Congratulations?” Stiles offered, wincing at the dark look the woman shot him.

“No.” Kate Whittemore said sharply, “No. Jackson’s only just turned eighteen. He has his entire life ahead of him. College, than law school and a partnership in our firm, he can’t be married.”

“You were just told you that your son is a werewolf and that’s what you’re focusing on?” Melissa asked, incredulous.

“There is a plan-”

“I think the plan is fucked, Katherine.” William Whittemore snapped, “considering our boy is now covered in fur and married. How do you think ‘Gay Werewolf’ is going to sound on an application?”

“I’m afraid he’s right.” Adam said, voice heavy with distaste, “though I don’t approve of the phrasing. Your son’s life completely changed the moment he was bitten. A Werewolf can’t exist without a pack, at least not healthy, he needs them. And now that he’s mated…everything’s different. A pair-bond is something that can’t be challenged or changed, its life-long, permanent, it’s…intense. This isn’t a phase that Jackson or Scott will grow out of.”

His voice was soft and wistful, pained almost, and Stiles wondered if the man was thinking of his own deceased mate and family and thought of the possible pup inside him. He reached over and grippdd the older Wolf’s hand underneath the table and giving it a squeeze.

Kate looked like she might vomit or faint, wavering in her seat, and Will and Melissa hardly looked any better.

Stiles took a deep breath, leaning forward onto the table. “This isn’t an end and it’s important that you don’t look at it like that. It’s just that their perspectives have changed; they belong to the pack now” – _to me_ – “and to each other. Jackson and Scott’s life isn’t over, it’s just…different.”

He leveled each of the humans with his most serious stare, letting it settle on Kate, “but you do need to understand that there’s no going back from this. You have to accept that this has happened and – I’m sorry, because this is unfair – but you need to do it quickly. Because I’m their Alpha and I will protect them.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Mr. Whittemore bit out, hands curling against the table edge.

“It means what I said. I will protect them, from everything. Even you, if I have to.”

“You think you can take my son from me?”

Stiles gave the furious and drawn human a despondent smile, knowing that if he asked it both of his Betas would obey. And though the Alpha loathed the idea of breaking apart families under any circumstances, he would do it. Because Scott and Jackson were his responsibility, and his friends.

His pack.

His family.

“I know I can.”

After the insanity of the day, the quiet familiarity of his room was like a balm for Stiles. He changed into his pajamas on autopilot, half his attention on the fluctuating heartbeats of his packmates, still so clear and easy heard despite being a mile into the woods.

The Whittemores and Melissa had hardly wanted to leave, staying until nearly nine at night, but when it became clear that there was no sign of the wayward Betas leaving their camp, they eventually left. Stiles was somewhat worried that the Whittemores would go and tell someone, but really who could they go to about this? They didn’t know anything about the Argents and that left them only with the police – who his father was the current head of. What’s more, who would believe them if they went forward?

That Werewolves were real would be hard enough to believe, much less the idea that the Sheriff was one and was keeping their kid from them. Not to mention there was no legal ground for them to stand on; Jackson had turned eighteen at the start the school year, he was an adult now, and there wasn’t much they could do. Stiles had felt guilty about having to be so frank and harsh with Melissa McCall, the closest thing to a mother he’d had. He’d managed to pull her aside before she could climb into her Volvo and apologized. Melissa had given him a sad smile and a tight hug and assured him that she was sure whatever he was doing, it was for Scott’s own good.

They left the Betas out in the woods to finish their rut. Interrupting a bonding was dangerous for everyone involved and according to Deaton any further intrusion could possibly make the rut last even longer. It was, apparently, the reason why Stiles’ own heat had lasted a whopping five days instead of the normal three.

Despite it being the original purpose of their meeting, they didn’t end up talking about the Alpha Pack. They agreed to reconvene on Wednesday, since Stiles was stopping by the clinic anyway and it would give Deaton time to reach out to his contacts. John hadn’t been too apposed to Adam’s presence, nor did he seem overly surprsed when Stiles made it more than clear that the Delta would be staying with them. In true Stilinski fashion, he seemed to take the adoption of another stray in stride.

As he finished pulling on his sleep pants, Stiles could hear his father talking quietly with Adam, apparently setting him up on the downstairs sleeper couch. It was unnecessary, as Stiles had moved all of Derek’s things from the guest room into his room earlier in the day. The Alpha figured it had to do with his father wanting Adam on the bottom floor, closer to his bedroom, where he could keep an easier eye on the Omega.

By the time Derek joined him, still damp and fresh from the shower, Stiles was stretched out under his covers, fingers idly stroking a repeated line down the plain of his stomach. His mate joined him on the bed, his thick fingers joining Stiles’ in the gentle motion. Despite the loving action, Stiles couldn’t keep the unhappy sigh from escaping him. Derek pulled himself up, resting his head against his hand as he stared down at him, brows furrowed.

“Stiles?”

“I’m getting real tired of being the only one not knowing what’s going on.” He explained lowly. “Don’t think I didn’t miss the way Dad tensed when the Alpha pack was mentioned. Why the hell am I always the last one to know these things?”

Okay, so maybe he was still a little bitter about the whole ‘everyone knows Danny isn’t human but you’ thing, but Stiles was serious here. How the hell was he supposed to be an Alpha if everyone was keeping shit from him?

“It wasn’t intentionally kept from you, Stiles.” Derek said carefully, "I didn’t think the Alpha pack was real – I’m sure that John didn’t either.”

“But they are real, aren’t they?” Stiles insisted, craning his head back to stare up at his mate. “If I’m supposed to be an Alpha, I’ve got to know what’s going on. I’m tired of everyone making decisions for me.” A large palm cupped his cheek and Stiles nuzzled into it, pressing a kiss against the meat of Derek’s thumb and his mate’s face softened at the gesture. “I need to know that I can trust you, Derek. After Danny… I don’t care if you or Dad think I’m too young to know, or that I don’t need to know because maybe it’s not real or relevant – you tell me. I’ll decide whether or not it’s something I need to know about.”

“Alright, Stiles.” Derek leaned down, pressing a kiss against his forehead. “I promise, I’ll try to be more open from now on. Do you want to hear what I know about the Alpha pack? It’s not much and most of it’s based on speculation, so I don’t know how true it is.”

“Why’s that?”

His mate shrugged, settling deeper into the bed and Stiles scooted close, snuggling into the broad chest. “Most of what we picked up was from the other packs in New York. The cities huge and there are fifteen different packs across the boroughs, and we heard it first from the Brooklyn pack, who told us they’d heard it from a pair of Omegas who they’d taken in. No one’s quite sure about their numbers, but supposedly they’re all Alphas.”

Stiles frowned, that was what Adam had said, but that didn't make any sense. “Like a bunch of Alpha mated pairs?”

“I’m not sure, maybe. Or maybe they’re not.”

“But…isn’t it really hard for Alphas to function near each other if they’re not mated? I mean, even mated pairs won’t tolerate another Alpha near them, right?”

“That’s what my mother always said,” Derek agreed, “but they apparently found a way to make it work.”

“The whole pack is Alphas?”

“Supposedly.”

“The _whole_ pack?”

Derek nodded, leaning down to nose at Stiles’ forehead. “The whole pack, which is what makes them so powerful. But it’s also why Laura and I didn’t really believe they were real.”

“Adam says they’re real.”

“Yeah.” A heavy sigh, “which is not what I wanted to hear. Stiles, the Alpha pack is deadly. They’re apparently move through Wolf communities, challenging Alphas and killing off the entire pack. They don’t even keep the territories, they just…kill everyone and move on.”

“Why would they do that?”

“Because they can.”

Stiles felt his heart skip, his stomach twisting in fear. A pack full of Alphas, killing just for the fuck of it. It was a terrifying idea. He turned onto his side abruptly, curling into his mate’s form until there was no space between them and Derek obliged the move, an arm curling around his waist and holding him tightly.

“Do you think they’ll come for us? For…for me?”

The arm around him tightened even further and suddenly Stiles was being rolled. His Alpha instincts flared brightly, annoyed, but for once his Delta ones won out. Stiles’ doubt in his abilities was growing, stronger than ever, and he needed this. Instead of challenged, he only felt safe as Derek settled over him, his body a heavy, protective weight.

“It won’t happen.”

“I…I can’t do this, Derek.” Stiles gasped out, clinging tightly to his mate. “I don’t know how to be an Alpha; I can barely take care of myself. How am I supposed to protect our pack – all those people came to me yesterday, and I promised all of them that I would protect them. But  how can I protect them from this? How the hell can I even fight if I’m pregnant? Oh, god…I’ll…I’ll lose the baby! Derek-”

A warm mouth cut through his panic, silencing him mid-word. He whimpered, stretching into the touch, feeling the fear in his chest lessen at the first tentative rock of Derek’s hips against his own. Stiles knew what his mate was doing and he gladly accepted the distraction, letting his legs fall open to cradle Derek’s hips more easily. The Beta’s moves were soft and loving, his mouth teasing every inch of skin he could find, and when Derek finally slid inside him, Stiles' body was already plaint and wet.

They rocked against each other for a long time, his mate whispering soft words of love and reassurance to him as he pumped, his cock barely ever pulling out any further than the root. Stiles shuddered, whimpering and whining, accepting every wet kiss offered to him. When Derek finally knotted him, he had lost all track of time; utterly blissed out and unable to think about anything other than the large, thick knot plugging his insides.

A soft kiss was pressed against his forehead as Derek carefully rolled them so that Stiles was on top, the strain on his legs and hips eased by the position.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you just did there.”

Derek let out a chuckle, the sound a deep vibration that Stiles could feel. “Are you complaining?”

“No.” The Alpha admitting, giving into the post-orgasm exhaustion and letting his eyes closed. “But we still need to talk about this.”

“Tomorrow,” Derek promised, pulling the covers over them. “There’s nothing we can do about it right now. Now you need to sleep.”

John watched as the Delta moved about, tucking the sheet over the sofa pillows. He didn’t begrudge Stiles for allowing Adam to stay and knowing his son, should Adam prove to not be a threat the stay would most likely be a permanent one. After all, he would hardly be the first Omega they’d taken in the last few months.

Things had been different with Derek, though. The Hale had lived in Beacon Hill before; he was less of a mystery. John had already known what type of people his family had been, had been willing to accept that any child raised by Talia Hale was worth taking a risk on. But Adam was a complete unknown. He knew nothing of the type of people his pack had been, just as he knew nothing about who Adam was.

It made John nervous.

But still, even if he could have gone against his son-turned-Alpha’s decision on this, John wouldn’t have. Adam looked like shit, which was really something when you took in a Wolf’s healing abilities. The Omega Delta was thin, practically gaunt, it was clear that the life of a Lone Wolf had been a trial for him. If nothing else, John would not begrudge the poor man a few days rest in a safe place and more than a couple of warm meals – he was in desperate need of fattening up.

“I’m not going to hurt your son.” Adam said resolutely as he finished tucking the sheet in and sat on the sofa. "Not that I think I could."

It’s strange for John to see another Wolf in his clothing, smothered in his scent they carried even though the clothes were clean. He wasn’t sure of the truth of that statement, even though Adam’s heart never deviated, as there are many ways to hurt someone and many of them were never intentional, so he ignored it. “You want to join our pack.”

The smile was given was tired and a little sad. “I don’t know what I want yet. I know no more about what type of Wolves you are, as you know who I am. Our beliefs could be totally incompatible.  But,” he conceded after a heartbeat of silence, “it would be nice to belong again.”  

“How long have you been running?”

“You mean how long ago did it happen.” Adam corrected with a sigh, patting at the spot next to him on the sofa. John bypassed it, choosing instead to sit on the coffee table facing the foreign wolf. “I’m from Orlando, Florida. I was a teacher – so was my mate – and we worked in the public schools. Or pack was small, there was only nine of us and five of those were pups. We lived there pretty happily, got alone with all of the neighboring packs. Most of them were related to me or my mate, or our two Betas, so everything was fine between us.”

“And then the Alpha pack came.”

“Yes.” Adam said softly. He reached into his pocket, bringing out a worn leather wallet. He pulled out a faded photograph, handing it to John. It was of Adam and his mate – a tall, stocky man, who was quite handsome despite the fact that he was balding – and two small boys. “That’s an old photo, the boys are only eight there, my daughter six.”

“Twins?”

“Twin terrors.” He corrected with a laugh. “I was sixteen when I mated and carried, I thought I was ready. Boy, did those two brats correct that assumption.” The smile turned achingly maudlin, “they looked so much like their sire. I miss that man.”

John handed the picture back, unable to deny the swell of kinship and understanding in his chest. He could remember how lost he’d been after Claudia had passed and John couldn’t imagine how he would have survived if he’d lost Stiles too.

“They came on a Wednesday morning. My kids were in public school, but the pack’s two youngest were not quite ready yet. I home-schooled them in the mornings, taught in the afternoon, like I had with all of the pups, so it was a while before I knew what was happening. They’d apparently arrived on that Monday, I guess, and offered my mate an ultimatum; kill your pack and join them, or die like the rest of us. I don’t know why Phil didn’t tell me – maybe he didn’t want to scare me? I was carrying at the time, so…”

John felt his heart wrench, hyper aware of the lack of pup with the Omega. The implications were clear enough.

“Phil and our Betas, Andy and Maria, were dead before I even knew what was happening. When they came for us, I took the kids and I ran. I wanted to get to the school and get my sons and daughter, but when I called they told me they’d never shown up that day. I had to leave them behind. I almost made it to Georgia before they found us. I tried – so hard – to protect them, but I was nothing compared to the Alpha that found us. She was a female, I couldn’t understand how she could just kill them. They were six and four, I couldn’t ever imagine hurting a child, even if it did belong to a different pack. I don’t know how I got away, but I made it to a gas station and a family of Coyotes on vacation found me. They saved my life. They nursed me back to health, even offered to take me to a local Wolf pack or to stay with them for a while, but I couldn’t risk the Alpha pack coming after me. So I ran.”

“Why did you come to Beacon Hills?” John probed gently, watching the way Adam’s hands shook as he took a sip from his water cup.

“I heard a Hale was back in the area and that there was a new Alpha, I had assumed…”

That it had been Derek Hale. Of course Adam would have thought that,  given Talia Hale’s legacy. The woman had been a legend amongst the Wolf world, one of two Alphas in the whole of North and South American that could manage a total transformation. Her death at the hands of the Argents had caused a ripple throughout the entire Wolf community and any and all conversations or negotiations with Hunters ceased completely in response. The Argents, in turn, had been both revered by the more conservative Clans and reviled by the more liberal ones, blamed for the breakdown of communications and heightened tensions.

Things would have been easier if Derek had become the Alpha. A Hale Alpha would have more sway over the community, might have been able to broker alliances to defend against the Alpha pack. But it was Stiles – his baby boy – who was Alpha.

“Is Stiles pregnant?” John shrugged, trying to ignore the dread that was building in his stomach and unsure what to say, painfully aware of Adam's miscarriage. A tentative hand was placed over top his own and the Beta glanced up to find Adam watching him, face earnest and concerned. “We’ll figure something out, John.”

He gave the Adam a weak smile.

“We’ll have to, won’t we?”

Wednesday found Scott and Jackson back in school. Caleb watched them from the bench, shaking his head at how transparent they were being. Not that anyone at school had been left in the dark about their relationship – not with how fond of PDA both Wolves were – but it was blatantly apparent now. Jackson was leaning against the locker next to Scott’s, all but leering at his mate’s exposed chest. Scott was grinning like an idiot, blushing a bright red when the blond leaned in to whisper something into his ear.

“Don’t make me come over there.” Stiles said levelly from where he sat next to Caleb, his voice hardly above a normal conversational tone, but the two Betas jerked apart as if they’d been slapped. Caleb smothered his giggle as the Alpha threw him a wink. “Seriously, the horn-dogs.”

“They did just mate.” Caleb defended half-heartedly as he shoved his lacrosse clothes into his gym bag. Stiles made a noise of agreement as he pulled on a hoodie literally _dripping_ with Derek Hale’s scent.

“No excuse for scarring the normal’s,” Stiles sang, though his smile was fond and amused as he watched his two Betas interact. Caleb zipped up his gym bag and stood, mind already on the Spanish paper he had to write, when Stiles’ hand curled around his wrist, halting his movements. He turned to find the Alpha Wolf watching him with serious eyes. “I need to talk to you and Coach, alone.”

Swallowing, the Coyote immediately sat back down, apprehension growing in his chest. This could only be bad. What was wrong? Something had to be wrong. Of course something was wrong, why else would he want to talk? What if – the hand on his wrist slid down to curl around his sweaty palm and the Omega found Stiles smiling at him reassuringly. He felt himself relax, surprised to find that he’d tensed up at some point, and gave his friend a nervous smile back.

They waited until the locker room had cleared out, Stiles gesturing for his Betas to leave, before the wolf lead Caleb into the office. His uncle looked up, an undoubtedly harsh rebuke on his lips directed at them for entering uninvited, but fell silent at the intense look on Stiles face. He reached behind Caleb, clicking the heavy door shut and throwing the office into complete silence.

Coach leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing as he took in their still clasped hands. “Something on your mind, Stilinski?”

“Have you ever heard of the Alpha pack?”

Both Coyotes tensed and the Omega was mortified to hear a pathetic whimper escape him. The hand holding his tightened and pulled slightly, and Caleb ignored his uncle’s disapproving glare as he went with the motion, letting the shorter boy slip an arm around his waist, the Wolf nuzzling against his shoulder comfortingly.

“I’ve heard things.” His uncle said, voice oddly neutral for the animated man. “They’re that batshit crazy Wolf pack your kind can’t control, right?”

“Well, you’re not wrong.” Stiles gave a low, strained laugh. “We’ve got some intel. It’s unconfirmed, but from a seemingly solid source. They’re coming to Beacon Hills.”  
Uncle Bobby’s lips pealed back, teeth elongated as his eyes flashed an angry scarlet. “But you’re unsure.”

“Like I said, unconfirmed. I’m going to a meeting right now to talk it over, actually. Deaton put some feelers out, so hopefully we’ll know more soon.” Stiles said, his own eyes a deep ruby as he released Caleb and ran both hands through his still shower damp hair, face frustrated. “I’m not asking for anything, not right now. But I wanted you to know what was happening, I want you – and everyone – to be prepared. These guys are apparently complete sociopaths and I don’t want anyone surprised.”

“Keep me informed, Stilinski.”

“I will.” Stiles promised, before sighing. “Look, I’m already running late and Danny didn’t come to practice today.”

“No.”

“Coach-”

 _“No.”_ Uncle Bobby snapped, “warn the Dogs on your own time. Me and Callie-” Damn’t, he was never going to escape that stupid nickname, “aren’t going anywhere near those mutts.”

“Fine.” Stiles huffed, looking annoyed. “Whatever, but if you need to let this stupid rivalry go. We’ve got enough shit going on with the Hunters and the Alpha pack, we don’t need to be infighting at the same time.”

“Infighting?” Coach said with a harsh laugh, “that would imply that we’re have some sort of relationship to begin with.”

“You do.” The Wolf’s voice was low, even, but not without a weight of authority he’d never heard from the other third. “You are a part of this community, whether you want to be or not. What affects one of us, affects all of us. I have no idea if the Alpha pack will go after other shifters, but I know the Hunters don’t give a flying fuck. So, like I said. The last thing we need right now is infighting.” Stiles opened the office door, glancing back over his shoulder. “I’ll be in touch. Stay safe.”

Caleb watched him go, biting his lip. He turned to glance at his Alpha. “Uncle Bobby, maybe-”

“Don’t.” Coach said harshly, “just don’t, Greenberg.” His uncle sighed, bringing a hand up to rub harshly at his hair. “Okay, I’ve got at least another few hours at work. I want you to wait for me here at school, I’ll drive you home later.”

The Omega blinked in surprise. Coach never drove him home. “You…what?”

Uncle Bobby shot him an unamused look, “not even you are that stupid, red. Until we know what’s happening, I don’t want you far from me, you hear?” Caleb nodded, stunned by the undercurrent of protectiveness and worry in those harsh words. “Good, now go wait for me in the library.”

Caleb turned to leave, but stilled when his uncle called out to him.

“Caleb.” The Coyote turned to find his uncle watching him, eyes narrowed. “Pay attention, to everything. You think something’s wrong, you run and you find me. Crystal?”

"Crystal."

Deaton's place was strangely empty. John and Adam were apparently at the police station paying off some fines the Omega had gotten for vagrancy and trying to talk a local restaurant owner down from pressing charges against the older Delta. Apparently Adam had been caught in their kitchen after hours. He hadn't actually stolen anything, but the intent had been there. The whole thing had gotten pretty nasty and when the time to meet up had come about, only Derek had been free enough to make it. From where he sat in vet's office, Stiles took a long moment to simply observe the strong lines of his mate. 

Derek looked  _good_ in a uniform. 

No one was overly surprised he'd been hired - it was no secret Derek was staying with them, nor that he was an 'old family friend' - though apparently Wells still hadn't given up his 'Hales are elitist assholes who get away with everything' campaign and was kicking up quite a fuss at the station. Wells wasn't without his supporters, but Kate Argent and the other arsonists recent convictions for both the Hale fire and Laura's murder had freed Derek of much of the suspicion that had been surrounding him. 

His mate was currently on the phone, talking to packs back east in an attempt to learn more about the Alpha pack. Derek wasn't the kind of Wolf who asked for help, so Stiles knew that him reaching out was a sign of how desperate he was for information. While Stiles still felt it incredibly important that Derek have a job as it both helped cement his place in Beacon Hills and would keep him stimulated, he wasn't blind to the fact that being away from him during the day when there were two very serious threats in town was trying on the Beta. 

Nor had he missed that Hunter and Derek's cop car had been around the school more often than not. 

He also didn't doubt that Derek was also using the calls for distraction, the same way that Stiles was powering his way through Angry Birds on his cell. Deaton was still waiting to hear back from most of his contacts (he'd also apparently already called and warned the Rockfell Witches and the Lobizón, much to Stiles relief) but what he had heard wasn't awesome. The Alpha pack had been spotted recently in Colorado, but that was all the information the Emissary had to offer. Which had lead them rather quickly back to the original purpose of their visit. 

The pregnancy test. 

They'd been waiting for fifteen minutes for the blood test to finish, and Stiles was getting his ass handed to him by the pigs. His poor little vengeful bird friends, they deserved better then the half-hearted attempts the Alpha was trying. But it was impossible to really focus. The door to the back lab opened and Stiles nearly dropped his phone in his haste to stand. Derek didn't even offer a goodbye before he hung up abruptly. That was probably bad for pack politics, but he could forgive it given the situation.

The Emissary gave them a smile and Stiles felt his heart leap to his throat. "Congratulations."

The Delta let out a choking laugh, both hands dropping low to frame his belly. He was pregnant. Right now, at this very moment, a pup was growing inside him. A perfect mix of him and Derek, a little boy or girl or third. Stiles had never loved anything so strongly or quickly in his life. Derek was suddenly in front of him, sweeping him up into a fierce embrace and an even fiercer kiss, but before Stiles could even react to it, his mate had pulled away, dropping to his knees as he pressed a kiss against his mate's stomach, nuzzling into a nonexistent bump. 

Stiles felt like his face was going to crack, he was smiling so hard,  and reached down, running his hand across thick, dark locks in an affectionate pet. Slowly the edges of his smile wilted though, expression sobering as the reality of the situation reasserted itself. The Hunters were more dangerous than ever with the arrival of Gerard Argent and they were out for blood for Kate's murder, calling more and more of their Clan to Beacon Hills. The Alpha pack may or may not be advancing on his territory - a territory which was currently splintered and unorganized, with two packs virtually at war with each other. He was a young, untried Alpha, with a pack that consisted of four Betas - two of which were freshly turned teenagers.

And he was pregnant.

Stiles tugged gently at his mate's hair and Derek obediently glanced up at him, the happiness on his own face already replaced with a mix of emotions, all of them concerned. "We need to expand, stabilize."

"I have some ideas." Derek agreed solemnly as he stood, "do you know Isaac Lahey?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really went back and forward on whether or not I was going to make Stiles pregnant, but I just couldn't resist. See ya next time!
> 
> Oh, and here's a chart I made comparing certain aspects of the different creatures we've encountered so far (and Foxes/Kitsunes, since they'll come up eventually) so I hope that makes things a little clearer.  
> 


	7. To Grow a Pack, Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m your father-”
> 
> “And I’m your Alpha!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the wait guys! I was mega-disppointed with the show lately it took me a while to refind my voice for this story.
> 
> But!
> 
> Thanks to some awesome fanart by Sen I've got it back! You can see the awesomeness at the start of Chapter 1: Heat. So this chapter is dedicated to Sen!
> 
> Un-beated for now.
> 
> ARG! I've updated two fics today! Why are none of them showing up on the first page of their fandoms??? What madness is this?

**February 21st, 2011 - Wednesday**

Between the tall book shelves of BHH’s huge library, Caleb Greenberg was having a bit of a crisis of conscience. The cause of his problem sat innocently a few feet away at one of the tables, head bent and face lax in concentration as he worked. Danny was pretty lost to the world around him, bright lime green headphones plugging his ears.

Stiles’ warnings about the Alpha pack floated about his head on repeat, making the Omega shift guilty in his hiding place. A lot of what the wolf had said had made sense; there was no time for infighting, not with what was coming. Caleb knew that his uncle would be furious if he found out he’d done so but he was seriously considering warning Danny.

He didn’t really understand the feud between his pack and the Māhealani, just that it had always been there – a festering, open wound that had never shown any signs of healing. They’d never done anything to Caleb. Of course they didn’t know about him, but he’d never really seen them do anything to his Uncle Bobby either. He coached Danny, so clearly it couldn’t be _that_ bad.

And with the Alpha pack coming…

The coyote sighed, before retreating out of the library and into a nearby bathroom. He waffled for a moment longer, taking a piss even though he didn’t need to. Caleb always chose the stalls over the urinal, even though it got him a never ending amount of shit, because he never really felt comfortable going in front of humans. Even if the chance they’d notice his missing parts were slim.

Plus, Caleb liked to wipe after he went.

Even though he urinated from his penis, his vagina was constantly cleaning itself, secreting slick and other liquids and it made him uncomfortable. Caleb made a face as he dried himself closely, he’d been kinda…leaking…more than normal. He fiddled about in the bathroom for a few minutes, trying to delay making an actual choice before he finally gave in.

Caleb dug about inside his backpack for a pen, gripping it in his teeth as he tore off a piece of notebook paper and scribbling a quick note on it. He could hide it in Danny’s car before the Beta Dog left for the day. Coyotes were stupidly good with all types of locks, electronic or classical, and he could pick car doors easily enough.

Yeah, this was good.

His conscious would be satisfied, Danny would be warned, and no one needed to know it was Caleb. Hell, once Danny read the message he’d be way to busy alerting his pack to the upcoming danger to really investigate anything.

This was good.

In and out and then done.

Isaac Lahey, it turned out, lived a pretty shitty life. Police records showed two different investigations by Child Protective Services in the last five years, and no less than three emergency room visits in the last six months for a broken wrist, bruised ribs, and two separate concussions.

Derek’s argument for turning him was pretty pervasive; Isaac was fifteen, a sophomore, and seemingly facing several years left living in an abusive household. While becoming a wolf may not necessarily mean that there would be a cession of the beatings, it did mean that Isaac would be harder to hurt and heal quicker.

He also fit the profile emotionally.

Isaac was a loner, but clearly desperate for friendship so he could be more willing to invest in a pack. Derek had apparently been scoping him out while he’d been monitoring Stiles and Scott at school. Stiles’ mate told him that he’d first noticed Isaac because the kid constantly smelled like he was in pain – and didn’t _that_ little fact make something inside the Delta fill with pity.

He was also a hard worker. Isaac had an afterschool job at the local graveyard, ironically working the graveyard shift which not only spoke of Mr. Lahey’s shitty parenting but also was _friggin’ illegal._ No wonder the kids was 6’2 and skinny as all hell. He was probably being underfed as well as being denied the extra sleep all teenagers needed, all on top of being beaten.

Stiles didn’t know much about the kid outside of seeing him around school. Isaac always looked kind of sickly, pale and tired, and he certainly had reasons to be. But the Alpha wanted to talk with him – really talk with him – before he offered the bite. While Stiles knew they didn’t have a lot of time, he wanted to get at least the most basic of grasps of Isaac's personality.

Even if he did decided that Isaac was a good fit, there was always the chance he may not survive the bite. And once he did, he would face the threat of the Alphas and the Hunters. He would get all the gifts their kind had to offer – which was not a pale offer by any means – but Stiles was determined that Isaac would understand everything he was facing if he took the bite.

It would be the same with any they turned.

After a conversation with Deaton, they had decided on three as the magic number. That would give Stiles seven Betas, plus himself and Adam should the older Delta join their pack. That gave him a grand total of nine wolves. A workable number, even if Adam chose not to face the Alphas a second time and Stiles was waylaid with pregnancy.

And if Stiles managed to rally the coyotes and dogs, they might actually have a chance of surviving this. Or not. If a skilled Alpha could fight off three grown wolves at once, Stiles had no idea what the fuck a pack of them could do. But it would be better than nothing.

So yeah. Pack-building, an immediate must.

Stiles had a candidate of his own. Erica Reyes had been in all of the Delta’s homerooms courtesy of their last names and had briefly served as a Spanish tutor to both Stiles and Scott. She was a quiet girl (Stiles wouldn’t call her shy, but she was definitely reserved) with an uncommon amount maturity for someone her age and a sense of strength about her.

The Alpha knew that it came from her medical condition. Erica had severe epilepsy and once confided in him that the medicine they had her on had some truly nasty side-effects, with the worst being it made her gain weight and break out. While those two might be the shallowest of all of them, there was nothing easy about them when you were a sixteen year old girl trying to survive high school.

Thinking of how much better Scott’s life had gotten once his asthma had been cured through the bite had brought her to mind and Stiles was delighted to see both Derek and Deaton approve of her candidacy whole heartedly.

Surprisingly Deaton also had a recommendation; Vernon Boyd, a kid who was fairly impossible to miss at school due to his sheer size. He apparently worked for Deaton cleaning cages and walking dogs on the weekends though Scott had never mentioned it. It was one of Boyd’s three _(three!)_ jobs.

Apparently the Boyd name was pretty well known down at the station. His dad had been injured years ago at the old paper mill and had to go on disability. Shortly after this, his wife died and Vernon Sr. had fallen into a long term addiction to pain pills and alcohol. He ended up in the drunk trank at least every other weekend.

Boyd was the sole bread winner for his family and also the main caretaker for his two younger siblings. He worked hard, both at school and his jobs, and Deaton seemed very taken and impressed with him. Boyd had also recently been diagnosed with diabetes and though he’d been advised by his doctor to cut down his work hours, he had little choice but to continue on.

They spent hours mulling over their choices. Honestly it was a relief to talk about something other than the baby for a bit, as Stiles was feeling pretty overwhelmed on that front. By the time he and Derek finally headed back to the house, the Alpha felt confident. All three were strong candidates for health reasons alone, but when you add in the fact that they’d all seemed fucked over pretty badly by fate they seemed utterly sound.

Adam was preparing dinner when they arrived and Stiles slid in easily next to him, greeting the other Delta warmly as they set about peeling potatoes. He couldn’t wait to tell John not only about his pregnancy, but his possible Betas. For the first time in a while, Stiles was actually feeling positive.

Which was why his dad’s reaction caught him so far off guard.

Danny kept his gaze distant and his face in a fierce scowl as he left the school, unwilling to talk to anyone about anything. Apparently he was just that nice of a guy that everybody and their brother felt it necessary to come up and talk to him. It was always the same, they were fishing for new gossip about Lydia.

Or about Stiles.

A lot of them seemed to think badmouthing the wolf to him was a good way to get on Danny’s good side. It wasn’t. It really, really wasn’t. While he may have accepted that the beautiful third was never going to be his, that didn’t mean Danny tolerated other people talking badly about him. Stiles was an Alpha now (his town Alpha, and wasn’t that a hard pill to swallow) and he deserved respect.

And no matter how hurt Danny was, it didn’t change the fact that he once counted himself in love with him. He didn’t want people to talk shit about Stiles to him. The Beta Dog let out a deep sigh as he finally reached his car. He leaned against it, watching the band practice in the adjacent parking lot as he fished out a warm coke from his bag and took a swig.

He couldn’t say that he was happy with what had happened, but even Danny could admit that he was healing. It seemed that the confrontation at Stiles’ house had been the final kick Danny needed to admit to himself that whatever they could have had was honestly, truly over.

Stiles was mated.

To Derek fucking Hale.

Out of his reach, forever.

While it still hurt, Danny had to accept that. He’d be an Alpha himself eventually, in charge of his family, and that meant that he had to be a grown up about this whole thing and let it go. How could he work with the wolf pack if he was still swimming neck deep in a creek called Denial? He’d regret loosing Stiles forever, but…but he’d done this to himself. He would have to learn to live with it.

The coke tasted like shit in his mouth and he spit out, resealing the bottle and shoving it back into his backpack. He unlocked the Charger, opening the door – and stilled in confusion. His lacrosse bag, which Danny was positive he’d thrown in the back seat after practice, had been moved sit on the front seat.

Frowning in confusion, he shifted the bag trying to hear if anything sounded different inside it. When nothing did, the Dog pursed his lips in irritation. The chances of this being some kind of trap was fairly high, yet knowing that fact didn’t really keep him pulling the zipper open.

The scent hit him first.

He let out a strangled sound, leaning heavily on the metal frame. It was a sweet, vanilla-woody smell, potent and heavy with unmistakable fecundity. It was like an unmated third had rubbed himself all over the contents bag. No, not just a third – an Omega, a Coyote Omega. There was a slip of paper resting atop his dirty uniform. The smell was the strongest from it (so strong that just it sitting in his closed bag was enough to saturate it) and Danny’s hands were moving on their own, pulling it free and bringing it up to his nose.

He took a long drag of the scent through his mouth, the action ending in a hitched pant as his cock lurched to life in his pants. Danny felt his eyes flash, his canines elongate to tug at his bottom lip; the scent on the paper was incredibly strong – strong enough for the Dog’s sensitive nose to pick up the faintest hint of slick to it.

Danny’s mind short circuited, suddenly struck with the bizarrely erotic thought of the unknown Omega rubbing his slick over the paper. He’d have to know that Danny would smell it, that Danny would know it. He took another deep inhale, hand tightening on the car frame as his chest heaved.

God, Danny had never smelt anything so… _captivating_ in his life. The scent made him crave, made his chest swell with warmth as his cock swelled with need. His brain felt like it was surrounded by cotton, swallowing harshly around a dry mouth. He’d never had such a visceral reaction to a scent in his life. 

With great effort Danny pulled his head away from the pocket of enticement, taking ragged breathes of the clean air. Once the strange, fuzzy feeling in his head had faded, the Beta unfolded the note.

His eyes narrowed as he read and re-read the note. It was a warning, one that wasn’t warning Danny or his pack away, but rather trying to help them. To help Danny. This coyote – this Omega – was trying to protect him.

Something twisted his chest, mixing with the alluring scent.

Danny had no idea what the Alpha pack was, but he was sure whatever it was it wasn’t good. He needed to talk to his dad. Now.

And yet…

The Beta carefully folded the note up, slipping it inside his breast pocket. His eyes flittered up to the security camera mounted just above his car before turning on his heel and heading back towards the school.

Stiles paced the length of his room. His canines were extended, teeth drawn back in a snarl of frustration. What the hell was his dad’s problem? Didn’t he understand what was coming? What was going to happen once the Alpha pack arrived? Did he think Stiles _liked_ the idea that he had to turn more people?

When John had arrived home from patrol, Stiles had been excited to tell his dad about their day. But John’s reaction…

_“Absolutely not.”_

Stiles had gaped at his father. _“What?”_

_“I said no, Stiles.”_

The teenager had been stunned. _“What do you mean, no?”_

_“We don’t need to turn anyone else.”_

_“Of course we do!”_ Stiles had snapped and by his side Derek had gone stiff, his eyes narrowed as he watched John in confusion. _“Or did you forget about the marauding group of killer Alphas heading this way?”_

_“Which is exactly why you shouldn’t be turning anyone. Even if they survive the bite, look what they’d be facing. And you’re talking about kids-”_

_“They’re my age.”_

_“And I wish you didn’t have to be involved with this either, son.”_

_“Well, too bad. I’m right in the middle of it – just like everyone else in this pack. We need to expand to survive, Dad.”_

Things had rapidly degraded from there, with both Derek and Adam standing off to the side, watching the interaction with concern. Perhaps it was because Stiles hadn’t quite forgiven his dad for the Danny thing, or maybe it was because he was still so emotionally volatile from his ascension to Alpha, but John’s words had infuriated the Delta.

_“So you’re just going to bring them in and what, Stiles? Surprise, we’re at war?”_

_“Of course not! How could you even think –”_

_“You’re Born – all three of you. You have no idea what it’s like to –”_

_“This is about what happened to you! For fuck’s sake –”_

_“Watch your mouth–”_

_“Stop interrupting me, goddamn’t!”_

_“I’m your father-”_

_“And I’m your_ Alpha!” Stiles had snarled and he hadn’t realized he’d shifted until he’d slammed his clawed hands down on the kitchen table, leaving an angry crack along the length of it. _“We’re expanding and that’s it.”_

He’d stormed from the kitchen, frustrated and seething, and hid away in his room. But it only took a few moments for remorse and guilt to rear their ugly heads. Stiles knew that his father’s turning had been horrible; bitten against his will, eighteen year old John Stilinski had woken up a completely different species, with only human myths to go off on what being a werewolf was.

John had actually been afraid that he would be driven to kill and eat humans.

Alone and terrified, John had run away from home, living on the streets as he slowly train hopped and hitchhiked across the country. Logically, Stiles knew that kind of thing left a massive amount of trauma; that no matter how level and reasonable John appeared in everyday life, the subject of his (and apparently others) turning was a deeply rooted, painful thing. Until tonight, Stiles had never understood how much fear and anger was still there.

He should have seen it coming and the Delta felt sick with it. Sick with the knowledge that he’d upset his usually good natured dad and sick with the knowledge that something had changed forever between them.

Because when John had pulled the ‘Dad’ card, Stiles had trumped it for the first time in his life.

Even if Stiles disagreed with his dad, the teenager still shouldn’t have flown off the handle like that. It was just…everything was too much, just too much. He let out a groan, bringing a hand up to rub at his forehead. Everything was changing in every aspect of his life – even in the one place he felt it never could, his relationship with his dad.

“Stiles.”

The Alpha let the hand fall, giving his mate a weak smile. “He hates me.”

Derek sighed, stepping into the room and pulling the door shut behind him. “John doesn’t hate you.”

“He’s going to.”

“No, he’s not.” The older wolf pulled him into his arms and Stiles went with the move gladly, resting his head on Derek’s chest as he curled his arms around the broad waist. “These are just growing pains, sweetheart. Your dad loves you, it’s going to be okay.”

“I…” Stiles shook his head, tightening his grip on his mate. “I’ve never talked like that to him before.”

“John was in the wrong,” Derek assured gently, “and you’re still so close to your ascension. With the Alpha pack and the baby, nobody’s going to blame you for getting upset. You can apologize later, once you’ve both had a chance to think.”

“I hate this.” The Delta murmured, closing his eyes as he zeroed in on the steady beat of Derek’s heart. “I hate having to do this. I wish I never became the Alpha.”

There was a huff of breath against his cheek as Derek nuzzled him and Stiles lent heavily into the move. Lips brushed against his forehead as his mate spoke. “…it should have been me. I wish I could have saved you from this.”

“This isn’t your fault,” Stiles said as he cocked his head back to meet those lips, speaking against the soft skin. “What happened – that’s no one’s fault. I didn’t even know what I was doing when I did it.”

A large palm cupped his cheek, thumb stroking his cheek.

“I know that.” Derek’s voice was still a rough roll, his eyes bright blue and miserable, “I know that you’re right, but I can’t stand this. I can’t stand seeing you unhappy. And I can’t – I can’t explain to you, what it’s like in my head right now, but the fact that the Alphas are coming and they’re going to be gunning for you…” Derek’s other hand pressed against the non-existent swell of Stiles’ stomach. “You’re my mate, Stiles, and you’re carrying my pup and I can’t _protect you.”_

“Hey,” Stiles soothed, bringing his hands up to lay against the vulnerable stretch of his mate’s neck, “I get it. As much as I can, I mean. I’ve got my instincts, but I know they’re different.” He pressed his forehead against Derek’s, “can we not talk about this? I’m sorry, but can we just lie down? I don’t want to talk about the Alphas or Dad or the baby, I just…I just want to lie with you.”

Derek nodded, half-carrying Stiles to their bed. They tumbled into still clothed, shedding their sneakers and the outermost layers before curling tightly around each other. In the comfort of his own bed, surrounded by the addictive smell of his mate, Stiles felt the weight in his chest lighten ever so slightly.

He let out a shuddering breath, hiding his face in Derek’s neck, and tried to will himself into a much needed nap.

John stood in his backyard, glaring hatefully at a patch of dying sod. There was a spot of high traffic between the detached garage and the house where the grass had been treaded to death, and it seemed dead set on refusing to take any sod. As such John was stuck with an ugly yellowing-brown patch in the otherwise healthy yard.

The poor sod hadn’t really done much to earn a wolf glaring at him with brilliant, angry amber eyes, but that was neither here nor there.

John tried desperately not to think of whatever the hell it was that just happened in the kitchen. It was a failing attempt though and he couldn’t quite keep the betrayed, furious image of his son – his baby boy – glaring at him from behind crimson eyes and a full set of teeth.

He and Stiles had never fought like that – ever.

A tumbler of whiskey suddenly appeared in front of him, cutting into his line of sight. John took it on reflex, glancing over in surprise to find that Adam was standing next to him. When had the Omega gotten there? Had John been too caught up with his thoughts to notice or was the other wolf just that skilled?

Adam gave him a knowing smile that aged his face easily by ten years. “It’s hard when they don’t need you like they once did.” The Beta deflated, nodding as he attempted to chase his suddenly dry mouth away with the whiskey. “He does still need you, though.”

_“I’m your father-”_

_“And I’m your_ Alpha!”

 _Yeah,_ John thought bitterly, _maybe not so much._

“John,” the Delta interrupted, voice serious, “he does. Stiles needs you now more than he’s ever needed you before. He’s young and terrified. And pregnant.”

John’s head snapped over to stare at him, eyes wide. “What?”

“They were planning on telling you when you got home. Apparently your Emissary, Mr. Deaton, ran the test today. He’s carrying.” Adam sipped his own drink, eyes distant. “The first one is always the scariest, John. After – forgive me, please – but after what he told me about your wife and second born, can’t you understand why he’s so frightened? And that was nature, there wasn’t anything like what he’s facing right now.”

He was right.

And yet…yet the thought of bringing another human into the violent world of the supernatural turned the Sheriff’s stomach. Even if Stiles intended to be as transparent as possible with his choices, the idea made his insides sour. And Christ, how that hurt look on his good-hearted son’s face when John had implied otherwise would haunt him.

John felt his shoulders slump, disappointment at his own actions blooming strongly. There was no feeling worse in the world than the idea that you’ve hurt or failed your child. Stiles hadn't been wrong, with what was coming they would need more wolves to survive.

And yet still...

A hand reached out, hesitating for only a moment before resting on his shoulder. “It’ll be alright, John, rising a kid…they’re no guide book. These things happen. You should have heard some of things I said to mine,” Adam’s voice hitched but to the Delta’s credit it he carried on as if it had never happened, “we’re only human.” A short laugh. “So to speak. Apologize the next time he comes out, Stiles’ll forgive you.”

John gave the other wolf a grateful smile. It’s been so long since Claudia’s death, he’d almost forgotten what it was like have another adult wolf around.

“I hope so.”  

Alan Deaton had followed the path of a Druid since he was six years old. He’d been at the market with his grandmother, his baby sister Bianca’s hand held firmly in his own, when he’d bumped into a tall, raven haired man. The entire market seemed to freeze, as if time had come to a stop all around them, and the two had shared a long look.

It was as if something inside Alan had flared to life, a strange ache of recognition coursing through every bone and cell of his body. It had been Alan’s natural abilities being awaken for the first time, the tiny spark in his child body responding to the greater pull of the Druid in front of him. The man had held his hand out and despite all of his family’s warnings, the little boy had taken it eagerly.

Alan would never see his grandmother – or his mother – again.

He would learn later that Bianca had felt it too, though the two year old had not known how to express it then. It was the start of a long career in the mystic arts for them both, learning the power and might of the Old Ways and the ceremonies and laws required by them in the safe cradle of a Druid Grove. It had been a fruitful life and a stimulating one, and Alan had seen and experienced things that most people couldn’t even imagine in their wildest dreams.

Even after the Hale fire – after the terrible loss of his first charges, ripped so violently and cruelly from him – Alan had never regretted his choice to take his Mentor’s hand. The Druid was Alberto Ferreira and he would become Alan and Bianca’s mentor and commander, carrying them through the ranks as he ascended to Grand Druid of North America.

The Emissary carefully pulled the needle out of Butterscotch – a nine year old blond lab mix diabetic who was in for a teeth cleaning – and disposed of the used syringe, turning to wash his hands in the sink. He worked the soap into his hands, careful to get under the nails.

“Come inside, Derek. You’ll scare Butterscotch.”

The wolf obeyed and as Alan turned, drying his hands off, he let himself take in the sight of him. Derek Hale had grown into a tall, proud Beta and for a moment the Druid felt a stab of sympathetic remorse that neither Talia nor Eric Hale could be here to see it. _Mated and pupped,_ Alan mused as he threw the paper towels away, _if only you could see your son._

“It’s rather late, Derek. What can I do for you?”

The Beta’s hands fisted tightly by his side, eyes flashing pureblood blue in the darkness.

“I need you to make me an Alpha.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor guys, everybody's so stressed. :[
> 
> John gets some much needed peer support, both he and Stiles are so stressed trying to redefine their relationship. And Derek - Derek's got plans.
> 
> And (eventually) Danny and Caleb. (Poor Greenberg, he forgot to wash his hands, foul boy.)
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed, I promise to get the next chapter out much faster. I feel like now that I've finally got through that block the chapters should be easier to write.


	8. Packs and Politics, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All the ways that Caleb had imagined a life benchmark such as his first heat, this had never even been on the bottom of his ‘worst case scenario’ list.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Un-betaed.
> 
> After a long struggle with writers block, I caved and wrote a new fandom. That always seems to do the trick. For you smart, tricksy bastards that called Caleb's impending heat - well done.
> 
> Warnings: There may be slight bestiality (no sex happens in animal forms, but it may be squicky if you're not expecting it.)

**February 21st, 2011 – Wednesday**

Deaton sighed, crossing his arms, suddenly looked very tired. Derek felt a surge of guilt – he knew what he was asking was probably impossible, but he refused to back down. Stiles needed him, need Derek to be stronger, to be able to protect and lead him. While he had meant every word of what he said to the Delta (Derek really did believe that Stiles would make a wonderful Alpha) a blind man could see how the whole thing was scaring the teenager shitless.

Even if the Alpha pack wasn’t coming, Derek would still be asking the same question. The amount of stress he’d seen reflected on every inch of Stiles – on his face, in the set of his shoulder, the quiver of his voice, the sour tint of his scent – was alarming. It was a harsh reminder that no matter how mature Stiles seemed, he was only sixteen.

His mate should be focused on getting through high school, on preparing for college and their first pup, not worrying about how to handle pack and territory politics or how to keep his four Betas safe. Not on top of the strain that would undoubtedly come with carrying for the first time. That kind of stress could even be dangerous, as even the hardy body of a werewolf could turn on itself and miscarry.

“Derek,” Deaton started, voice heavy, “you know I can’t do that. There’s no spell – no potion I can give you to make you ascend.”

“I won’t accept that.” Derek insisted firmly, hands fisting by his side.

“Derek, there’s nothing I can do.”

“There’s always a way.” The Beta snapped, “there is _always_ a way. You do remember telling my mom that, don’t you?”

“This isn’t the same thing.” Deaton said with a shake of his head. “There are only two ways to transfer an Alpha’s power, Derek, you know that. Through death or a natural ascension, and I’m sorry Derek, but you are not a True Alpha.”

“Please, Doc. I know what I’m asking is – I know it’s not right, but I need to protect Stiles.” He begged shamelessly, uncaring at how desperate he sounded, his voice almost breaking with it. “The Alpha’s are coming, you’ve heard the same things I have; I can’t put that on Stiles, not when he’s carrying my pup.” 

“You’re not putting anything on him.” Deaton said softly, eyes gentle with understanding and pity. “You didn’t bring the Alpha pack here, you’re not responsible for that or for anything that’s may happen, Derek.”

“It should have been me.” Derek muttered through gritted teeth, eyes locked on his boots. “Peter was my responsibility, I should have been the one to kill him.” He should have been able to protect Stiles better. From Peter, from becoming Alpha, from everything. “I failed my family once-”

“Derek-”

“Don’t.” He interrupted, voice harsh. “You’re not going to change my feelings on that, so don’t even try.” He looked up, locking eyes with the Druid, aware that they were a bright, angry blue. “I won’t fail in this again. I won’t lose Stiles. I won’t lose my pack again. Deaton, _please._ Help me.”

There was a long, long silence, Deaton’s face unreadable, before the Druid gave a slow nod, and Derek leaned heavily against the exam table, relief reflected in every inch of his body.

“I’ll make some calls, see if I can find anything out.”

“Thanks, Doc. That’s all I can ask.” Derek gave the dark skinned man a smile before turning to leave. He’d left Stiles asleep, alone and unguarded, and it grated on his nerves; the Beta’s instincts still high from their shared heat and resulting pregnancy.

Deaton called out to him before he could leave the office though, voice weary. “I make no promises, Derek.”

“Yeah, I know.”

_Underneath him, the Omega’s slim body was contorted in a near perfect lordosis display; hips hiked high, spine curved as his head hung heavy between his shoulder blades. Danny let out a snarl at the sight of it, draping his body overtop, unwilling to allow such alluring sight to be seen by anyone else._

_The Omega whimpered at the possessive move, folding himself smaller so even less of his body could be seen from underneath the Beta’s larger form. The move pleased him immensely and Danny bit down on a tender nape, eyes rolling back in pleasure as the move made the Omega shake and shiver, his hot cunt clamping around the Dog’s cock._

_Danny growled roughly as he pounded the tight channel, the movements so rough and hard that only his firm grip on the Omega’s neck and the cage of his arms kept the slim form from being thrown off his dick. The scent – that perfect,_ perfect _scent – was all around them, mixing so wonderfully with his own and there could have been no greater aphrodisiac._

_Danny’s chest was heaving with each breath, his pants and snarls mixing with the Omega’s and the sweet, succulent wet sound of their mating. The Beta pulled out abruptly, flipping the Omega onto his back before sinking knot deep again. His little mate gasped, body arching into him, face hidden in his elbow as the Dog hips began a truly brutal assault before stuttering, shoving his knot so deep that the tip of his cock pressed against the very mouth of his mate’s womb._

_He let out a sharp cry as they tied, knotting muscles locking tight around him as the Omega followed him into orgasm, his release a gush of wetness around his cock and against his stomach. He tugged at the Omega’s arm, desperate to see the face of his mate so he could kiss him, take those full lips in a tender kiss, and finally the limb gave way and –_

Danny woke with a moaning gasp, hips grinding heavily into his mattress as the unlucky thing was forced to take surge after surge of his release, his cock and knot heavy and hot in his boxers. The Beta shook his head, mind heavy and confused, and for one extended moment he stared at his pillow in confusion, and nearly looked around his room for where his Omega could have gone before he fully woke up.

He let out a growl of annoyance as he forced himself up onto his knees, chest still heaving, and glared at the damp spot on his sheets. His cock was still spending, soaking his boxers and dripping down his legs to slick and clump his thigh and leg hair. 

The dream weighed heavily on his mind and the Beta Dog felt unreasonably furious that he was alone, that the Omega wasn’t here to take him, that his come was being so wasted. Beyond angry, Danny pulled his bottom sheet off, throwing it in a corner before yanking his boxers off. He waded the dirty fabric up and pressed it against his cock, his seed still leaking in short bursts, as he threw himself back down on his top sheet, glaring up at his ceiling.

What the hell was wrong with him?

How could a single scent – a _Coyote’s_ scent – do this to him?

What’s more, Danny didn’t even know who the hell it was that had done this to him. The school hadn’t allowed him access to the security feeds and the damned secretaries had stayed in the office forever, until long after seven – long enough that Danny couldn’t justify waiting to give his father the Alpha warning any longer, not just for a chance to break in and hack into the school network.

With another frustrated noise Danny leaned over, digging into his discarded t-shirt and pulling out the paper. Despite the anger in his movements, the Beta’s hands were careful as he unfolded the note and brought it up to his nose. The scent reached out to him from the notebook paper and Danny took a deep inhale, cock and knot throbbing harshly in response.

Tomorrow he’d break into the security system, the Dog vowed determinedly as he shoved the paper into his pillowcase, ignoring the strange feel of it against his cheek as he settled directly atop it. The sweet scent filled his lungs with each inhale and Danny’s arms ached for the phantom weight of the Omega from his dream. He rolled onto his stomach, pulling the pillow until it was lengthwise, holding it tightly.

It was a poor substitute but the Beta found his eyelids still growing heavy, drifting off to sleep to the pleasing scent of the Coyote.

Getting the three Humans together was way harder than Stiles could have imagined. In the end only the bribing got them to his house after school on Thursday. He’d promised Erica forty bucks to tutor him last minute for his economics test and both Boyd and Isaac had been lulled over under the false pretense of paid yard work for sixty dollars each.

To be fair, Stiles had brought enough money to pay them all, though he desperately hoped he wouldn’t need to. As it was, the three teens sat around his kitchen table, clearly bewildered and suspicious as to why Derek, Scott, and Jackson had been present in the house. Adam had been absent when they’d returned home from school, a note on the fridge stating that he’d gone out grocery shopping and not to expect him home for a while. Unaware of how to even begin this conversation (and heavily aware of the judging eyes of Jackson and Scott) Stiles had just sort of blurted out his proposition.

It went pretty much as well as anyone could have predicted.

“You have to be fucking kidding if you think we’re stupid enough to believe that.”

Stiles winced; Erica was never one to mix her words. Derek was a comforting presence at his back, standing close enough that Stiles’ could feel the brush of his t-shirt against the back of his head and neck. He gave the furious looking girl an embarrassed grin as Jackson let out a groan of disbelief. Scott hushed him quickly, fingers pinching his mate’s side harshly. The two had been practically living together; Jackson’s parents were still struggling with the revelation that their son was a wolf and mated, and they had naively thought that by banning Scott from their house they could…well, Stiles wasn’t actually quite sure what they thought they were doing by that. Perhaps by themselves more time?

Jackson’s response to his parents’ denial was to spend nearly every night at the McCall’s home, where Melissa had taken the news with the same grace she’d taken pretty much everything else that had been thrown her way in life. She’d put down some rules – not that Stiles believed for a minute any of them were being followed – and seemingly accepted Jackson with open arms, welcoming the young Beta as a new member of her family.

The amount of time they’d been spending together was no more evident than in the newly found confidence Scott sported. Stiles’ friend seemed to have finally come into his own, comforted and boosted by the unwavering love and affection that Jackson showed him without reservation. Love and affection that Stiles had never seen the blond Wolf ever show to anyone before. Jackson seemed calmer as well, seemingly more at ease than ever, and never hesitated to silence his snark or sarcasm at Scott’s slightest sign of disapproval.

It was sickeningly sweet and Stiles had never been more happy for his best friend.

Stiles sighed, folding his hands and setting them atop the table, trying his best to look professional. “I promise you I’m not lying, I’m being very serious. Everyone in this room is a werewolf and I’d like to extend the bite to you. Scott and Jackson were both bitten, Derek and I were born this way, but I promise this is all very real.”

“Right,” Boyd said with a snort as he stood, pulling his zip-up off the back of the chair, “I don’t have time for this. I’ve got two essays I gotta somehow pull out of my ass before I have to hit up my shift at ten. You guys coming? I can give you a ride home if you like.”

Erica stood to follow (Isaac stayed sitting, watching him with narrowed, thoughtful eyes) and Stiles sighed, bringing a hand to rub at his short hair. Terminator style it was then. “Okay guys, show them.”

The three Betas slipped into the Change with great ease and Stiles wouldn’t even deny the burst of pride he felt at how easily Scott’s features shifted; his friend had come a hell of a long way in the last few weeks. Stiles didn’t shift himself, too weary of his fragile control over his new powers. Erica let out a choked noise, the grip on her purse so strong her knuckles were white, eyes wide. The scent of fear pervaded the kitchen, acidic and gross, and the Alpha gave them a small smile.

“Like I said – not lying.” He gestured to the seats. “Please, sit back down. Or don’t – that’s cool too. You can walk out that door right now and that’ll be the end of it – the absolute end. I won’t ever bring this up again, I won’t harm you for knowing what we are. We don’t hurt Humans, not unless we have no other choice. And we don’t eat them – like at all – so you don’t have to worry about that. _But_ if you stay…if you stay I can explain everything; what we are, what I can offer you, and what that means.”

It felt like the entire pack held their breath before releasing it as one when Boyd and Erica exchanged a long glance before finally sitting at the table once more. Stiles gave them a weary smile, leaning back into the warmth of Derek, and began to speak.

He talked and talked, talked until his voice began to go hoarse, talked until Adam returned from the store and (to Stiles greatest relief) helped him try to explain. He told the trio of what little they knew of their kind’s history – which were all theories and not believed by half their kind, and most of it had been taught to Stiles by Deaton.

Shifters had left Africa around the same time as Humans and had mirrored their expansion, the two species living (albeit in unknown) symbiosis for centuries up centuries. He explained how there were once more kinds of shifters than any mythology could truly understand – though feline and canine were the only ones that had really survived in any great number to modern times. He explained about pack lines and politics, about Hunters and Emissaries, about the fine line of co-existence and co-inhabitance that had developed around all three groups. Stiles spoke of genders and sexes, of ranks and expressions of powers, of the _rules –_ both of the Old Ways and the New Code – and of the violence that was common place in their world.

He told of the death of Laura, of Peter’s treachery, of the violence of the Argent Clan, and of the upcoming struggle promised by the arrival of the Alphas.

It was a risk to tell so much and Stiles knew that it made both Derek and Adam uncomfortable, nervous, as they should be. There was no guarantee any of the Humans would agree to take the bite and as creatures ruled by secrecy, this was quite a leap of faith. It made Stiles glad that his dad wasn’t there. But it was a gamble he believed he had to take, one that the Alpha believed would pay off, because while Stiles didn’t hesitate to offer the blunt truth about the bite and what would come after, he honestly believed that they would agree to take it.

Because as he spoke of the benefits of being a Wolf – of the advanced healing, the increased vitality and strength, the immunity to most Human sicknesses – Stiles could see the hunger grow in each of the Human teenagers’ eyes.

“I’m telling you all this because I don’t want you to be blindsided or feel like I lied to you. This is probably – scratch that, _this is –_ the biggest decision you’ll ever face in your life. But if you agree to be my Betas you’ll get all the strengths of my kind.”  He let his eyes settle on an almost painfully attentive Erica. “And that means no more seizures, no more pills,” his eyes drifted to a shell-shocked Boyd, “no more insulin,” before finally settling on a paper-white Isaac, “and the full strength and support of my pack emotionally, physically, and financially. If you join us, I can guarantee that short of my death you will never want for anything – not if it is within our power to provide it.” His eyes flittered back to Boyd, “and that extends to your families. We protect our own.”

There was a heartbeat of heavy silence before Boyd broke their stare, hands curling into fists atop the table top, face troubled. “…I need some time to think about it.”

“Fuck that,” Erica barked sharply, leaning in eagerly. “Where do I sign, Stilinski?”

“Yeah,” Isaac said quietly, “yeah, me too.”

“I think...Boyd’s right.” Stiles said slowly, letting his head drift back to rest against Derek’s chest as he clamped hard on his own impulsive wish to accept immediately. “This isn’t something that you should rush. Take a couple of days before you decide and really think about what I’ve said. This isn’t an easy life.”

Erica snorted, arms crossing as she glared at him. “I already don’t live an easy life, Stiles. Do you know how many seizures I have a day? Three, if I’m lucky. Do you know last year someone took a video of it and put it on line? I pissed myself, Stiles. It was all over facebook and youtube for like six months.”

“At least sleep on it.” Adam insisted as he reappeared, sliding a tray full of steaming mugs of hot chocolate onto the table. He began handing them out, a small smile on his face. “Trust me, we’re all glad you and Isaac are eager. How can we not be? We invited you to join us, after all. You know we need you. But remember _why_ our Alpha has offered you this. The Alpha pack and the Hunters are no joke, we just want to make sure you’re giving this the type of thought it deserves.”

There was something about the older Delta – something so deeply maternal that it was disarming – and the strain and anger in Erica’s frame bled out at the words. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” She admitted begrudgingly. “I’ll call you tomorrow, is that cool?”

“Yes.” Stiles said, feeling excitement and terror twine in his belly. They were really doing this. He gave Boyd a small smile. “You can take as much time as you’d like, Boyd. I know you have your reasons.”

_Like Allison._

“I’m pretty sure I’m going to say yes, too.” Isaac said around the lip of the mug. “But I can wait, if you like.”

Stiles sighed, bringing a hand up to rub at the back of his neck, and tried to find a way to phrase his thoughts in a manner that wouldn’t be mistaken as anything remotely like an order. He wanted Isaac to _want_ to take some time to think about it, not do it just because Stiles told him too. The Human teenager carried the air of one greatly subdued about him, and the Alpha felt a knot of unpleasantness curl in his stomach with the knowledge that such submissiveness had been beaten into him.

On the table, his phone beeped and Stiles reached for it quickly, glad for an excuse to keep from talking. It was a text message from his dad and the Delta felt himself pale completely as he read it.

Lydia was missing.

Caleb pawed at the ground, sniffing at the dirt as he tried to pick up a scent that was already hours hold and nearly washed away. He could just smell it – the very faint hint of Lydia Martin, tainted by something else. Stiles had put the call out a few hours ago, a desperate plea/command for help and the packs of Beacon Hills had responded with a vengeance.

The entirety of the Wolf pack was out (including, to Caleb’s great confusion, Erica Reyes, Isaac Lahey, and Boyd) searching and though they’d been careful to keep their distance, the scent of Dog was strong on the wind. Which explained why Uncle Bobby had reacted so badly when Caleb had told him he was going to go help search. They’d fought over it – his uncle untrusting and bitter – but the Omega would be damned if he stayed in and did nothing, that he'd just leave Lydia to wilds or allow _that_ to become the Coyote’s pack reputation.

Uncle Bobby was going to have his hide once he realized Caleb had disobeyed him and gone out to search anyway, but considering he was right in the middle of a staff meeting that was going to take most of the night, Caleb wasn’t too worried about it at the moment.

He kept his focus on trying to find Lydia.

No one seemed to know how, but apparently Lydia had managed to disappear from her hospital room without a trace. The Sheriff had been able to follow her scent into the Preserve but had lost it after she’d apparently crossed a wide creek and he'd lost it. Lydia had been bitten by that rogue Alpha that had been killing people, so she may or may not have turned, and everyone was desperate to find her before the Humans did. Caleb dug further into the dirt, inhaling so deeply that leaves swirled up around his muzzle. His tail wagged halfheartedly, ears perking up as he caught something. It was elusive, but it was there and the Coyote kept his nose pinned to the ground as he traced it. He followed it down a steep embankment, head cocking in encouragement as he uncovered slide tracks.

Lydia had come down here, lost her footing, and slid through the mud.

The trail eventually brought him to a small creek but thankfully did not actually go into, following alongside it instead. The Coyote took a moment to drink deeply from the cold water, filling his belly. He’d been feeling weird lately. Not sick, per say, just… _weird._

It was so, so strange; like this queer tenseness, this feeling of anticipation that never ended.

Caleb had no idea what the hell it meant.

He’d tried to talk to his uncle about it, but Coach had been super busy with midterms and the upcoming lacrosse championship, and had been leaving the house before he even woke up, so Caleb had decided to not mention it just yet. Besides, it wasn’t like he felt so bad he couldn’t move around. It was a strange kind of bloating in between his hips, an uncomfortableness that could never be fixed no matter how he adjusted himself. This last day or so had been the worst; Caleb felt like his skin was too tight, all of his clothing far too rough against his skin, and the only real relief he found was either being naked or fully shifted. The worst of it was how hot he felt, like he had a fever or something.

And…and there was…you know, the _other thing._

Not that Caleb would ever admit this to a soul, but his vagina actually ached. The lips had been swollen and oversensitive this morning and the Omega had half expected to start his period despite the fact he’d only just got off it a week ago. The discomfort had translated over, because like his Human form, Caleb was intersexed as a Coyote.

He drank his fill, tongue dipping into the water again and again, the coolness of it a welcomed distraction from the discomfort that crackled – even now – across his skin. A stick cracked on the other side of the creek and the Coyote’s head snapped up, both ears perked up in alert. A massive dog stood just a few feet up stream, something that looked quite a bit like a Husky but was _way_ bigger. It was a light reddish-blond color, with matching eyes, and a giant curved tail. Scent told Caleb that it was another male, a shifter like himself, but a Beta. The entirety of the Dog’s body was drawn tight and alert; his tail was held straight up, ears forward, bright eyes locked on Caleb.

The Coyote let out a low whine, taking a nervous step backwards, unsure of what was about to happen. He’d never had any interactions with the Dog pack and the stories his uncle told were never very good. Caleb hoped desperately that he wasn’t about to be attacked. But…they were both here looking for Lydia, right? They were both here on the behest of their territorial Alpha, on land that belonged to neither, so surely the Dog wouldn’t attack him. Right?

The Dog took a step forward and Caleb flinched, eyes locked on the approaching form, lips trembling as he fought the urge to bear his teeth. He didn’t _want_ to start a fight, but he was pretty fucking scared. Caleb stood at a modest fifty-eight centimeters as a Coyote, which fairly on the mark for an Omega according to his uncle, but was still on the smaller side for their kind and the Dog towered over him, easily ten centimeters taller or more.

A muzzle hovered near his own, sniffing before pressing – rudely! – into Caleb’s ear. The Dog kept stupidly close and Caleb kept his tail down as he tried to keep his anxiety from sending off any violent signals, but his ears were flat against his skull in discomfort. The Dog seemingly settled against him - shoulder to shoulder - muzzle in Caleb’s neck as he scented, and after a moment the Omega let out a low whine, unable to stand the tension anymore. There was a huff against the tender short-hairs of his ear before a hot, wet tongue bathed across it, the Dog’s tail lowering as it wagged.

Caleb trembled, letting his own tail wag ever so slightly before he tilted his own head and pressed his muzzle up against the Dog’s, taking a deep breath. Caleb’s tail wagged harder, ears drifting back up as he recognized it.

_Danny._

Danny was alright; Caleb knew Danny. They’d been playing together in lacrosse ever since he’d skipped a grade three years ago. Feeling particularly daring (or maybe it was just the blinding strength of his own relief) Caleb’s tongue darted out, curling around Danny’s blond muzzle in greeting. The two scented each other freely now, noses drifting along each other’s backs and shoulders, the tension of the moment gone. Danny’s scent had always been strong. Of course it was, he was next in line to take Alpha for his pack for a reason, but in this form it was nearly overpowering. It filled Caleb’s nose and lungs, strong and masculine in all the right ways, and it made something wholly uncalled for and inappropriate to bloom hotly in his stomach.

He pulled away, stupidly grateful that in this form no one could seem him blush, and prepared to show Danny the spot where he’d caught Lydia’s scent, when the Dog’s broad muzzle muscled itself between his legs. The Omega froze, stunned, as Danny’s breath fanned hotly across his privates. A thrill of arousal shot through him, starting in its intensity. He let out a low whimper of confusion – ears flat once more – as a warm tongue suddenly swathed across his lowers, catching his sheath and his swollen pussy in one sweep. He was ashamed to scent his own arousal and the shame turned to mortification as he felt a trick of slick escape him. The Omega trembled, whining as the lubricant was licked up before it could even reach his fur to mat it. 

Caleb could smell Danny’s interest and even if he couldn’t, the Coyote could see the pink of the Dog’s dick from where he’d grown erect and slipped free from his sheath. What…why was Danny doing this? Danny didn’t even _like_ Caleb, he barely tolerated him on a good day. It was as if that single action had unlocked something and the Omega whined low and long as he began to leak in truth, the slick dripping liberally down. Another lick rocked him and Caleb yelped, collapsing hard into the ground.

He’d been feeling horny the last few days – he was a teenager, he was always horny – but what the Omega felt now was on a different level completely. He scrabbled against the dirt, hips cocking up on their own accord as the tongue followed him down, insistent and sure, lapping up every squirt of slick. Caleb let out a high pitched yip of alarm, eyes wide and stunned as he came abruptly and violently, so quick that he didn’t even have a chance to be embarrassed.

But instead of feeling relieved, the arousal boiling in his veins only seemed to increase, his cock not even flagging after its release. There was a low growl – one that Caleb felt echo in his chest – and suddenly teeth were digging into his scruff. The Omega went utterly still as a heavily body settled above him.

Only it wasn’t that of a Dog.

“Shift.”

Danny’s voice was low, gravelly, and filled with a command that Caleb found he couldn’t disobey. He let out a pathetic whine, half-terrified, half-aroused, as he shifted back to his Human form. Hands yanked his gym shorts down without preamble and Caleb cried out, eyes rolling back and clawed fingers digging into the dirt as the mouth returned. Danny ate him out like a starving man, hands harsh on his hips and mouth pressed so flush against his pussy that the Beta’s nose dug against his asshole.

Danny’s tongue went deep, thrusting in out of him, Caleb’s pussy lips spread apart by his cheeks, his chin pressed roughly against the tiny swell of the Omega’s knot. Caleb didn’t understand what was going on – well he understood, but he at the same time he really, really didn’t. His entire body felt like it was being eaten by heat, his cock painfully hard in his pants and his pussy wetter than it had ever been in his life. His nipples felt oversensitive and abused – they were larger than most boys (something which had been a source of constant ridicule for him) and they were so tightly pearled he knew that they must be visible through his t-shirt.

His insides literally _hurt_ and Caleb felt so vulnerable, so weak. The Coyote’s only real defense was the fact that he could hide his scent, that no one knew what he looked like, and here he’d given it away so easily. What would Coach say if he knew Caleb had given himself away because of a stupid vocal command?

And yet it was so hard to care with Danny’s mouth a hot constant on his cunt, and Caleb was pushed into a second orgasm, barely muting his cry as he felt himself release a gush of slick into the Dog’s waiting mouth. Danny let out a happy hum, tongue darting about as he tried to catch all of it.

“D-Danny.” Caleb moaned, hands tangling in his own hair in confusion. Why was this happening?

Caleb gasped, hands flying up to cover his face as he was turned onto his back in a useless attempt to hide, unsure as to why he felt so terribly vulnerable. And still _stupidly_ aroused. The feeling of Danny’s body caging him was _perfect,_ and he was felt his thighs grow wet as his body continued to leak slick at a frightening rate. His hands were tugged away from his face, pinned above his head in one of Danny’s massive hands. The Beta Dog was staring at him in something akin to surprised-hunger, eyes a brilliant and unmistakable orange.

“Greenberg?”

The name was a harsh reminder, one that cut through the strange fog that had settled in Caleb’s mind, of who he was and who Danny was (which was far, far on the other side of the social spectrum from himself) and the Omega shrank from it, feeling himself tear up as he squeezed his eyes shut and let his head lull to the side.

He squirmed with humiliation and discomfort as his pussy throbbed and released even more slick. God, why was this happening?

“You’ve been a shifter this whole time, all these years.” It wasn’t really a question, but Caleb nodded anyway. “You left that note for me.”

Another nod. There was a sudden bloom of warmth against his cheek – Danny’s palm, cupping his jaw gently, guiding his face back up – and Caleb’s eyes flew open on their own, blinking hard against the tears. He was surprised to find that the older teen look almost concerned, brows furrowed harshly.

“Why are you out here?”

The sentence was a snarl and the Omega winced, dropping his gaze to Danny’s chin as he went limp, letting his head lull in the Dog’s grip in submission. “L-Lydia–”

There was a groan and suddenly the Beta’s face was pressed against his throat, scenting the spot just behind his ear intensely. “You’re in heat, you idiot. Do you _want_ to be raped?”

Caleb’s eyes widened in denial. Heat? That would explain everything, but it couldn’t be possible. It just…it just wasn’t possible! “No, it’s too early!”

“Apparently not.”

“No! I mean,” Caleb blushed furiously, “I’m a late bl-bloomer, I only just got my period last month.” On the day of his fifteenth birthday, no less. It was the only thing that made the fact that no one had shown up bearable; he’d have died from humiliation knowing the other shifters could smell his period. “It’s – it’s too early!”

“Trust me, you’re in heat.” Danny’s voice was hoarse, the hand on his wrist and jaw tightening almost to the point of pain. “Christ, _your smell_. I’ve never smelt anything so good. I’m….fuck, I’m sorry, I just can’t–”

He whimpered, hips squirming as teeth nipped lightly at his neck. Danny’s hips rolled down in response, his covered cock dragging perfectly against Caleb’s and the Omega yipped, hands flying up to paw uselessly at Beta’s arms and back. “Danny…”

Hands reached down, dragging over Caleb’s hard cock before rucking the Omega’s t-shirt up. There was another harsh _‘fuck’_ and suddenly Danny’s mouth suckling at his nipple. The Coyote bowed at the touch, a hand tangling roughly in the short hair while the other dug claw deep into Danny’s shoulder. It was like a string connected his nipple to his cock and core, his lust ramping up as each needy suck and scrape of teeth sent a bolt of electric want arrowing down his belly.

He squirmed, helpless, grinding his hips into Danny’s, his legs wrapping tightly around the Beta’s calves. Caleb could no longer remember why he was out here, or why it was weird that it was Danny trying his damnest to milk his dry tits. The only thing that mattered was the hot press of the Beta Dog’s body against his, the rough swipe of his tongue, and the perfect grind of his covered cock against his naked one.

“Fuck.” The Dog pulled away, looking slightly wild as he settled back on his heels, orange eyes blazing brightly as he stared down at Caleb sprawled form. He’d never really found himself remotely attractive (though, if he was honest he rather liked how different his blonde his eyes lashes were) but Danny seemed to think different, cursing loudly as he reached down to squeeze his coverd erection roughly. “I’ve got to – Jesus, you can’t be here. It’s not safe; there are fucking Wolves everywhere.”

The Omega whined, hands reaching beseechingly up at the Beta, mind so muddled with arousal he couldn’t comprehend while Danny had pulled away. Caleb didn’t understand; just a moment ago he’d been so close to getting what he wanted and now Danny was so far away. “Danny?”  

“I can’t –” Danny panted, hands shaking slightly as he gently pushed Caleb’s away, “ – take advantage like this. God, you have no idea how you _smell.”_

The Coyote cupped his dick, shame burning away under the force of his heat-lust, pumping his aching cock. The feel of Danny’s eyes on him made it all that more arousing and Caleb moaned, hips chasing each upward stroke of his hand. He felt insane, riddled with an all-consuming need to mate and the Omega was horrified; this was only the first day of his heat. If the stories were to be believed, he faced three days of this torture.

Above him Danny’s eyes flashed orange once more, the lines of his nose and eyebrow flattening as he approached a shift. His hands batted Caleb’s away, replacing them with his mouth. Caleb cried out, bowing as Danny took the whole of his cock down to the root. His hands flew to the blond’s hair, striving valiantly to keep his claws from digging into Danny’s scalp as the Dog proceeded to take him utterly apart. He came in only a handful of moment, chest heaving and shirt sticky across his breast due to sweat. He wanted it off, wanted his boxers and shorts off from his knees, wanted to be naked – to feel Danny naked, pinning him. But mostly he wanted that thick, Beta cock he could see outline in Danny’s shorts in him.

He must have been speaking his thoughts (Caleb was vaguely aware of his own hoarse mumblings) because Danny looked half mad as he lifted up, tongue licking his lips. Caleb surged up, clinging to the broad form as he kissed the Dog fervently. Danny groaned, arms wrapping tightly around him as Caleb was pulled into his lap.

“Fuck, you’re making this hard.” He panted around Caleb’s tongue, a hand dipping into the slick that was leaking from his pussy at a truly alarming rate. The Beta nuzzled his jaw, tongue tracing over the rapidly pulsing vein of his carotid artery. Danny was taking short breaths through his mouth, undoubtedly an attempt to try and escape Caleb’s heat-scent. “Need…to get you away – I won’t…won’t be able to soon.”

“No,” Caleb breathed, horrified by the idea of Danny leaving. Not when he had what Caleb needed, what his entire body was screaming at him to get. He clung tightly, dotting open mouth kisses along the underside of the Beta’s jaw, whimpering submissively as his legs tensed around Danny’s hips. The position rubbed his dick just _so,_ and the Omega gasped as he began to roll his hips against Danny’s muscled chest, “don’t go. Don't leave me.”

“God…” The sound was strangled, defeated, and a finger was suddenly pressing inside his hot cunt. Caleb gave an aborted shriek, grip iron-like as he pressed Danny’s face against his shoulder. He began to ride the digit senselessly, hips jerking down uncoordinated until Danny gripped them harshly, guiding them into a more graceful pattern. “Sorry,” the Beta groaned, “fuck, I’m so sorry, I can’t.”

What on earth could Danny have to be sorry for?

Couldn’t he see this was what Caleb wanted? What he needed?

“So fucking tight, Caleb.” The sound of his given name (a first from Danny, perhaps?) nearly undid him and he clenched down even tighter. A second finger slipped in and they spread, stretching him wide, a thumb pressing heavily into the tiny swell of Caleb’s knot. “Been thinking about this all day – ever since I scented you on that note.”

_Scented…the note?_

Caleb tried to understand what Danny was saying but he felt utterly lost in sensation, his mind a pleasurable blank, his head limp and somehow incredibly heavy as it hung.

“Knew you’d be tight.” A third finger dipping inside him and the Omega clung tightly, eyes rolling up in his head at the feeling. “Knew no one’s ever touched you. Jus’ me.” Danny’s words were starting to slur and hair was beginning to spurt from his cheeks and jaw. “Jus’ me. Feel good, pup?”

Caleb nodded, rolling hips desperately. He could sense another orgasm – further away now that some of the strain had been taken away – but so tantalizingly close. The fingers inside him twisted and Caleb rocked down hard, eyes squeezing close. Relief was there, _right there_ and –

“Get the fuck off him!”

Suddenly he was being ripped away, nearly thrown away, landing harshly on his side with pained yelp. Danny snarled, shifting into his humanoid transformation as he leapt to his feet. “Caleb!”

The Omega struggled onto his elbows, shocked out of the heat-haze at the sight his uncle, Alpha-red eyes bright and furious as he stared down Danny. Oh _shit._ He managed to pull his bottoms up, torn between crawling away to find some place to die of humiliation and trying to keep Coach from killing Danny.

The Beta wasn’t backing down (why wasn't he backing down?) snapping and snarling as he and Uncle Bobby circled each other, Danny’s eyes flashing from the Alpha Coyote to Caleb’s still prone form. “You just fucking throw him like that? Like he’s trash?”

“Better than him being raped.” Coach snarled and Danny flinched.

“No, _nononono_. That’s not what happened.” Caleb interrupted quickly as he stood – only to whimper in alarm as his legs gave out underneath him. Danny reacted instantly, leaping forward as if to catch him but his uncle lashed out, striking the other teen hard enough to send him flying in to a tree.

“Don’t you fucking touch him.” Uncle Bobby growled out, claws flexing and dripping crimson, “don’t you _ever_ fucking touch my nephew.”

Danny’s name died on Caleb’s lips, the Omega stunned into silence at the uncharacteristic display of protection from his uncle. Danny spit out a mouthful of blood, bringing a hand up to rub at his stained lips. “Fat lot of good your protection did him. What kind of Alpha lets his own Omega – his own fucking blood – out in the middle of his first heat?”

“I didn’t!”

“Did you even tell him what was happening?” Danny shouted, seemingly furious on Caleb’s behalf, and the red head was bewildered at the sight of it. “There’s no way you haven’t been scenting this for days – you’re his Alpha! How the hell could you _not tell him?_ Anyone could have found him and–”

Coach roared, leaping forward and grabbing the Beta by his shirt and shaking him like a rag. “Like you fucking did, you snot-nose piece of shit?”

A vicious growl erupted from their left, the air shifting, growing even heavier with anger and malice. Andrew Māhealani stepped from the bushes, lips curled and twitching, eyes blazing red. “Get your dirty hands off my son, you mangy fucker.”

Uncle Bobby threw Danny away, his own growl reverberating loudly and Caleb nearly threw up in panic. His instincts were going haywire; he was still in his heat, even if the threat of danger had suppressed it momentarily, and all he wanted was to find a safe den to curl up in and wait for it to pass. Danny – the shifter he’d been so close to mating was splayed out in pain – and his uncle and Mr. Māhealani were bleeding out aggression. He didn't even know who he should be more concerned about.

All the ways that Caleb had imagined a life benchmark such as his first heat, this had never even been on the bottom of his ‘worst case scenario’ list.

“Should have taught your Beta better manners, _mutt.”_

Caleb cried out in denial as Mr. Māhealani lunged forward, shifting into a giant tawny Akita mid leap. His uncle met him, fully transformed, and the two canines rolled violently in the dirt. He shot forward, desperation giving him a burst of strength. He had to stop this – because it was all a god damn _misunderstanding!_ – but strong arms caught him around the middle, pinning his still hot (too hot, so, so hot) body.

“Fuck, stop Caleb!” Danny snapped, locking his arms even tighter around the struggling Caleb until he could do nothing but heave for breath against the Beta’s chest. “It’s an Alpha fight, they've completely zoned.”

“They’re going to kill each other!”

“And if you get in the middle that, either one could kill you.” Danny corrected sharply, his grip gentling ever so slightly when Caleb stilled. A large hand pressed against his heart. “Shit, your heart is going crazy. You need to breathe, Caleb. Come on, pup, just try. Nice and even.”

But Caleb couldn’t. Uncle Bobby was going to get really hurt, or Danny’s dad was, and it was all his fault. The Coyote whined, turning in Danny’s hold to hide his face in the Dog’s shoulder. His entire body shook, flinching at each snarl and yelp behind him. This was all his fault, because Caleb had been too stupid to realize he was going into heat and now he’d reignited a pack war. And Uncle Bobby was going to die.

The Omega threw his head back, his throat stinging as his vocal cords partially shifted, and _howled._

 

Nearly thirteen miles away Stiles’ head snapped up, eyes flashing red at the sound of the wounded call, and ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed! Danny is an Akita (his dad)/Alaskan Malamute (his mom) mix, so basically he is a giant friggin dog. Good Guy!Danny, he tried so hard no to take advantage. 
> 
> Next chapter: They find Lydia, blood is spilled, Kate's funeral and more!
> 
> Also, does anyone know the proper plural for calf muscles? Is calfs or calves? -> So it is calves! Believe it or not, I found conflicting info on through google.


	9. Packs and Politics, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His mouth dropped at the sight of Lydia Martin, naked as the day she was born, glaring at them, hands on her hips. “I take it you’re the search party?” She rolled her eyes, “fucking typical. "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eh...sorry for the wait. I swear, I am so, so sorry. I'll be better, I swear!
> 
> Un-betaed.

**February 22nd, 2011 – Thursday**

Stiles arrived like a whirlwind, bursting from the foliage to Caleb’s left with a snarl that made the Coyote Omega’s stomach clench. Danny’s grip tightened around him, fingertips digging into his hips hard enough to bruise, and Caleb could feel the rapid beat of Danny’s pulse against his cheek.

Around them the noise of fighting had ceased and Caleb forced himself to pull away from Danny’s neck to see what was happening. The sight that greeted him was stunning; Stiles and Derek Hale stood in the middle of the creek bank, each with an Alpha in their grasp. While Caleb would have expected something like that from Stiles, he was after all the territorial Alpha of Beacon Hills, the sight of Andrew Māhealani driven to his knees by Derek was surprising.

But perhaps it shouldn’t be. Dog shifters were considered the weakest of all the canine family and Derek was a remarkably strong Beta. Born pure from a family that had roots that went as far back as the foundation of the country and the son of the legendary Talia Hale, a woman who Caleb remembered with no small amount of fear and trepidation to this day despite the fact that he had been only meet her a handful of times as a child.

Maybe it wasn’t so very strange then, especially as Derek had caught the Alpha by surprise and Mr. Māhealani wouldn’t dare fight back against the High Alpha’s mate. Caleb shuddered at the thought of what Stiles would do if anyone tried to harm Derek; he’d seen much over the last few weeks, watching the pair dance around each other in their clumsy but heated courting, and watched as the undeniable passion bloomed between them.

It made something inside his chest ache, and underlined the intended purpose of his heat – to take a mate, a partner with whom he could fill his life with. It was probably his hormones, heightened and sharpened by the heat, but Caleb was struck with a fierce jealousy – and a hyper-awareness of Danny’s body beneath him, his cock (nonsensically) still hard and hot against his inner thigh.

But there would be no mating tonight, even if Caleb was sure (which he wasn't) that was what he wanted. Stiles held his uncle still with a white-knuckled grip on his wrist, Mr. Māhealani pinned on his knees by Derek’s claw-deep grasp on his shoulder, and the entire area still scented heavily of anger and aggression. A full fledge pack war could still begin at any moment.

“Just what the hell were you thinking?” Stiles asked, his voice gruff and deeply saturated with frustration.

“He put his hands on my son!”

“Only because he was taking advantage of my idiot nephew!”

“You know heat scent is almost impossible to resist,” the Dog Alpha shot back, “Danny’s only a child and –”

“So is Caleb!” Coach interrupted, surging forward threateningly only to be forced back by Stiles’ immoveable grip. 

“Why I have to explain this two fully grown, adult men, I have no idea but neither Caleb or Danny are children here, you both know that. Heats and ruts are signs of adulthood.” The Alpha snarled again, silencing both Alphas’ arguments mid-sentence. “Don’t even try with me, I know your wife had Danny when she was seventeen, Andrew.” The Dog Alpha looked away, jaw clenched tightly. “And Coach – you know no one here is in their right mind; heat scent is incredibly hard to resist, especially if they’re compatible.”

“I didn’t know I was going into heat,” Caleb managed to croak out, surprised at how level his voice sounded when he was still shaking apart in Danny’s arms, and tried not to flinch when the Wolf Alpha’s head snapped over to look at him. “Danny couldn’t help it, he wouldn’t even look twice at me if I wasn’t in season.”

Danny jerked underneath him, brows furrowing low. “Caleb, I –”

For some reason the shocked expression made him angry and Caleb pulled away, shakily standing. “Come on, Danny, it’s just the truth. You’re you and I’m – well, I’m Greenberg.”

Stiles’ expression softened at that and he released his uncle, reaching out with a clawed hand towards him. Caleb took it after only a moment of hesitation, allowing the other third to pull him into a comforting embrace. Stiles’ scent encircled him, the heady and comfortable smell of pregnancy making everything inside him go loose and lax, and he nuzzled into the other teen’s neck, inhaling deeply. The hand that wasn’t curled around his waist gently combed through his hair, carefully picking through the thick tangles.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Caleb answered, voice low, “just humiliated, but what else is new?”

Being constantly embarrassed was practically Caleb’s job in life, why would his first heat be any different? There was a soft sigh, Stiles’ warm breath brushing against the side of his forehead. “Come on, let’s get you to your heat room.”

Caleb frowned. A heat room? What was that? “I don’t have one.”

Stiles’ head jerked over to stare at his uncle and a low, irritated growl escaped the Alpha wolf. “You don’t…alright, that’s fine. You can use mine. Coach, Danny, Mr. Māhealani, all of you go home. And no more fighting, I swear to god it’s like you want to be killed. There is seriously an entire _clan_ of Hunters in town for Kate’s funeral and here you two are, making more noise than Jesus.”

“But what about Lydia?” Coach asked, honestly alarmed. Caleb knew he had Lydia in one of his classes and that the smart girl was easily one of his favorite students.

“Yeah well you weren’t looking real hard, were you?” Stiles snapped, annoyed. “My pack will keep looking. Derek, make sure these two get in their cars without any more problems than bring me some supplies – snacks, fruits, Gatorade and waters, to the house. I’ll text Dad and tell him he’s in charge of the search.”

There was the rustle of leaves as the Beta Wolf approached and Caleb squeezed his eyes shut, hiding his face further in Stiles’ shoulder as the pair exchanged a short kiss. A warm hand rested comforting against his shoulder, wider and larger than Stiles’, and the Omega peaked an eye open in surprise. Derek gave him a gebtle smile.

“Take care of yourself, Caleb.”

The Coyote nodded dumbly, letting Stiles lead him away from the gathered shifters. He allowed himself one last glance back – at Danny – and found the brunet still on the ground, staring intently after them.

Stiles opened the door to the heat room, guiding a delirious Greenberg down the stairs. The poor thing had fallen deeper into heat on the ride down, squirming and moaning the entire ride home, over-heated skin sweaty and red despite the fact that Stiles’ Jeep was open save for the windshield.

“Come on buddy,” Stiles murmured gently, setting the incoherent Coyote on the concrete floor before turning to hastily make the bed. He couldn’t believe that Coach had let Caleb go out so close to his heat – just as he couldn’t believe that the Omega didn’t have a heat room. How was that even possible? How could Coach give so little shits as to not have prepared one for him? This entire thing could have been avoided if the Coyote Alpha had been doing his job.

Not that there should have been a fight to begin with. Stiles had asked them – as their territorial Alpha – for aid, the very first time he had done so, and they had failed him amazingly. This pissing match of a pack dispute was going to have to end and soon. There was too much going on between the Alphas and the Hunters for them to be at each others’ throats like this, something he had thought he'd made clear to both packs.

Stiles didn’t bother fully making the bed, the moment he’d had the fitted bottom on he was turning back to Caleb, intent on helping his fellow third to the bed before showing him his box of toys. Caleb was astruggling out of his gym shorts, his shirt and shoes already discarded, and Stiles swallowed awkwardly.

“Come on,” Stiles said, wincing as the red-head arched into his touch, panting, and lifted Caleb bridal stile. The naked skin felt burning hot under his touch and the Delta couldn’t help but wince in sympathy, remembering his own recent heat and the one's he'd spent alone before them. Going through a heat always sucked without a partner, but it was doubly so when it was your first and younhad no idea what to expect. 

Caleb moaned, body going limp against the cool sheets. Stiles still needed to stock the fridge when Derek got here, the heat room was practically barren having been stripped after his last heat, and he worried about Caleb even remembering to do either hydrate or eat down here by himself. He’d have to come down and check, the Alpha realized, feeling uncomfortable as he pulled the box of toys down from their shelf.

It felt like he was imposing; like he was violating Caleb by witnessing him this vulnerable, and the Alpha felt his irritation with Bobby Finstock flare even hotter. He’d be heaving a serious conversation with him soon, that was for sure. Stiles licked his lips, feeling the guilty stirring of arousal as he watch Caleb squirm across the sheets, his cock outlined in his boxers and the fabric darkened with his slick.

He wanted to turn around and leave, to flee and give Caleb whatever privacy he could, but Stiles held firm, ignoring the unexpected plumping of his own dick, and kneeled on the bed. He held a decently sized dildo in his hand, the thing a bright, sparkly orange with a tapered base. It wasn’t nearly large enough to really sate or simulate the knotting reflex, but it would be…it would…it was more appropriately sized for someone who was most likely still a virgin.

“Caleb.” Bleary, lost grey eyes blinked up at him, bright with only the smallest shred of intelligence. Stiles ran a gentle hand over the third’s face, pushing his bangs from his sticky forehead as he pressed the dildo into his hands. “I have a whole box of these, but I want you to start with this one okay?”

“Stiles,” Caleb gasped, the sound pathetic and begging, “oh _god,_ it hurts. Why does it hurt so much?”

“I know, I know,” Stiles soothed in sympathy, “just…just use this, okay? It’s always better once you can come the first time. It’ll be sort of hard – that’s normal – and it helps if you…” Stiles voice faltered, “if you shove some fingers in too, it – uh – it helps with the knotting instinct.” He began to pull away, “I’ll just be upstairs and I’m gonna come and check on you, I promise.”

Hands latched onto his t-shirt desperately. “No, please! Please don’t leave me, I don’t – I don’t know what to do.” Caleb sobbed, the sound mutilated by the high pitched whine that underlined it.

“I…” Stiles shook his head, unsure of what to do. He couldn’t stay, but the idea of leaving Caleb alone when he was so scared didn’t sit right either. Against his better judgment he pushed the dildo back into the Coyote’s hands, forcing his fingers to wrap around them. “Get it wet,” he rasped, checks flushing at how low his voice sounded before clarifying the command. “Rub it against yourself.”

Caleb looked half-terrified as he moved the toy down, but the second the hard, velvety plastic touched his swollen lips the Omega’s expression blew into one of pure lust, pupils dilating as he began to rub it fervently.

“No,” Stiles managed, hand hesitating before grasping Caleb’s wrist and slowing the movement, “like this.” He rotated the toy, hardly believing himself as he helped Caleb get it coated with a slick sheen. “Slow, be sure to get it completely wet, you don’t want to tear or hurt yourself.”

Caleb only whimpered in response, legs splaying wide, head lulling to the side. The muscles in his forearm was tense and raised, entire body shivering and shaking at the touch, and Stiles was never so sure he was going to hell as he felt his underwear grow sticky with slick. It was wrong – it felt like he was taking so much advantage of Caleb – but Stiles couldn’t deny his own body’s reactions.  

Caleb was a pretty enough boy, but in heat he was more than pretty, porcelain skin flushed pink and ginger hair darkened to red with sweat, curls tangled and wild. Stiles swallowed, eyes fluttering as Caleb’s hot shaft rubbed against his wrist. God, what would Derek say if he caught him like this?

The Coyote let out a low groan, legs spreading even further apart and the Delta hoarsely told him to put the toy inside, grip tightening on the other’s wrist when the desperate Caleb tried to shove it all in at once. “That’s it,” he croaked out, his cock painfully hard in the confines of his jeans, “now, just – just do what feels good.”

Caleb nodded frantically, fucking himself with the toy roughly, his free hand latching onto the sheet above his head, whining and whimpering as his hips drove back to meet each thrust. He should leave, Caleb knew what he should do now, but Stiles felt frozen in place, strangely unable to move as he watched the bob of Caleb’s pinked cock, pre-come oozing from the tip and slicking the Omega’s belly.

His chance to leave passed almost immediately, Caleb crying his name frantically as his hand disentangled from the sheets and reached for him. He took it without thought, squeezing the sweaty thing as he whispered encouragements and comforts, immensely sadened at the sight of someone so lost and confused by his own body. Caleb's face was a mixed between aroused and utterly terrified, and Stiles tried to justify his presence at the sight of it. This was why he was here, Caleb had no idea what was he was doing, he was so scared. He couldn’t just leave him. Stiles could help, just this once, just with this. Hopefully Derek – and Caleb – would forgive him.

“Stiles, Stiles,” Caleb sobbed, head thrashing as his entire body tensed, “I can’t – why can’t – _god_ please, I need – I’m burning up! Why can’t I – it’s not enough, _Stiles!”_

Caleb’s distress was so real, Stiles could almost taste it on his tongue, and he reached out without thinking, hand curling around the super-heated flesh of Caleb’s cock. It was so different and yet so similar to Derek’s; far smaller and with a tiny little knot, but still felt velvety-hard like Derek’s dick.

It only took three pumps before the Omega came with wail, potentless seed shooting across his stomach and chest. Caleb collapsed backwards, eyes rolling upwards as he went completely limp. Stiles was alarmed until he realized the other third had just passed out, and his eyes drifted on their own accord to where Caleb was locked tightly around the toy, four fingers buried deep alongside the base.

Guilt burned alongside his own arousal as he made his way up the stairs, knees weak but desperate to escape the heat-scent that saturated the room, trying to ignore the throbbing in his own body. He shut the door, locking it before stumbling towards the kitchen. He froze at the open entryway, eyes wide and startled at the sight of Derek leaning against the fridge, a beer in his hand.

His mate watched him with a critical eye and Stiles’ guilt intensified. There was no way the other Wolf could have missed what had just happened downstairs and the fear that his actions may have angered Derek stole his breath. What if Derek wanted to leave him because of this? Surely what had just happened counting as cheating.

Stiles breath was coming in quick pants, mouth dry as his mind whirled through what he could possibly say to fix this. Across the room, Derek up ended his beer, finishing it in one swig before setting it down on the counter. The Beta’s head cocked to the side, eyes narrowing.

“Why are you scared?”

“I,” Stiles sputtered, “aren’t you…mad?”

“Should I be?”

The Alpha ran a hand through his hair – than winced when he realized it was the one that he’d gotten Caleb off with and knew he must have smeared the other’s scent over him even further. What the hell was this? Some sort of test? Was Derek trying to get him to say it out loud? “For…for messing around with Caleb just now.”

The words tasted bitter in his mouth, but Stiles was no coward. He could have walked away at any time, left Caleb to his own devices, instead he’d decided to cheat on Derek. And it had been cheating, even if Stiles hadn’t gotten himself off. It was still a form of sex with another person. Mated for less than a handful of days and already he’d fucked it up.

Stiles stepped instinctively back as Derek crossed the small space, smacking uncoordinatedly in his panic against the kitchen wall. The Beta smirked, forearms resting against plaster above his head as he leaned into Stiles’ space.

“Stiles, sweetheart.” He was so confused. Wasn’t Derek mad? He didn’t seem mad, but he _should_ be. Shouldn't he? “Sometimes I forget how much you don’t know.” A hot mouth ghosted his neck and Stiles’ arousal, forgotten in his fear, blossomed even hotter. “Females and thirds – they help out with each others’ heats all the time.”

There was a nip against his neck and Stiles moaned, hands flying up to grip at the leather of his mate’s jacket. “You...don’t mind?”

It didn’t seem like Derek minded, not if the hand freeing his cock was any indication. The Alpha gasped, burying is face in Derek’s shoulder as a hand stroked him expertly. “No,” the word was spoken directly into his ear, the hot breath making him shudder.

"Oh," Stiles managed around a gasp, hips quivering and thrusting up to meet each stroke. “G-Good. I only want you. I – I was so guilty. Caleb, he was just so scared, I couldn’t just leave him but I didn’t want to hurt you either.”

“You’re _mine,”_ Derek said simply, the edge to the word making Stiles gush down his thighs, “it’ll take more than a kid like that to make me jealous.”

“Yours.” The Delta agreed, clawed hands digging tiny holes into the leather as his breath grew more ragged, his dick twitching in Derek’s grip.

“Damn straight you are,” the grip on his cock tightened, wrist twisting just the way Stiles liked as it reached the tip, “you’ve got my pup in your belly, gonna watch you grow fat and full, suck your tits –”

_“Oh god.”_

“ – and everyone is going to know that I did that.” Derek’s smirk was dark, eyes a brilliant blue as he pulled back, watching Stiles heatedly as he panted and whined against the wall, cock weeping thickly in his grip. “Got you all hot and bothered, didn’t he?”

“Derek!”

“Did you get yourself a taste? Or did you just stuff your fingers inside his hot little pussy, Stiles?”

“N-No,” he gasped, “jus’ helped him with a toy.”

 _“Fuck,_ that’s hot,” Derek rasped, “wish I could have watched.”

“Why?” Stiles snarled, eyes flashing red, “you’re _mine_ too, remember?”

Derek laughed. “Relax, Alpha, Greenberg’s got nothing I want.” He leaned in, licking a stripe across Stiles’ throat, cock grinding hard against Stiles’ thigh. “Let me fuck you.”

“God, please.” Stiles moaned, scrambling as he yanked his pants down so hard he nearly tripped. He’d barely regained his balance when Derek was lifting one of his legs up, pressing into him, his cock parting his wet folds with little resistance. They both moaned as he sank to the hilt, Derek’s forehead a heavy weight against his shoulder.

“Wanted this since the woods,” Derek growled out as he drew out and slammed back in a slow, fluid motion, “watching you put a grown Alpha in their place, my strong mate. Gonna give me such strong pups.”

“Yes.” Stiles hissed, hips jerking back to meet the now-frantic thrusts.

“So hot when you take charge, Alpha.”

“Derek!”

“I don’t want the Coyote, will never want him,” Derek panted, pounding into Stiles so hard the painting next to them was shaking. “But – _fuck_ – would watch you two, watch you fuck him with your toys. Was it the big pink one? Or the vibrating blue one?”

“Neither, the orange one,” Stiles answered, trying valiantly to keep his claws from digging into the plaster.

“Maybe you eat him out, fist him – just like I did that night. You want that?” Derek teased, hips already begin to loose rhythm against his hips, “want me to watch you take that pup apart?”

Stiles whined, crashing his mouth against Derek’s lips to silence those horrible, wonderfully obscene words. Caleb’s heat scent was still thick around them, radiating from his clothes and skin, and he could almost imagine it. He could almost see himself on his knees between Caleb’s creamy thighs, licking the other third until he fell apart around him, mouth full of the taste of Caleb’s heat. Derek would be fucking his fist – or Stiles – just behind them. He wrapped a hand around himself – the same hand that he’d serviced Caleb with – and pumped hard, whining into Derek’s mouth as he came so quickly it stole his vision.

Derek’s mouth was suddenly gone, a strangled sound escaping his mate as his knot caught, tying them abruptly. They panted against each other, Derek’s muscles quivering under the strain of holding them up but Stiles knew his mate would never drop him.

“You know that’s never happening, right? I don’t share.” Stiles managed after a moment, shivering as his body locked even tighter around the throbbing knot inside him.

“Good, neither do I.”

“That was really fucking hot though.”

Derek’s laughter was loud and freer than Stiles had heard it before.

It was cold in the Preserve tonight and while Scott barely felt it he was grateful for the hoodie he wore regardless. It was one of Jackson’s, complete with ‘Whittemore’ printed across the back in big, block letters. It was a not-so-subtle mark of ownership and one that hadn’t gone unnoticed when it was given to him, but Scott didn’t mind.

He did belong to Jackson, just as much as the blond belonged to him.

Not that Jackson’s parents were comprehending of that fact. Scott was more than a little proud to say that his mother had adjusted to the news with far more grace then the Whittemores, seemingly more pissed off that Scott kept her in the dark for as long as he did than the fact that he was now a werewolf and practically married.

It was a good thing she was as Jackson had spent more nights in Scott’s bed than his own. It seemed impossible to be away from the blond now that they were mated, and even when Jackson’s parents insisted he stay at home Scott ended up in Jackson’s bed. Jackson seemed utterly uncaring of his parent’s distaste of Scott, going so far as to have Scott over after school, where they’d been napping when Stiles’ phone call had woken them.

They had been dead asleep despite the early hour, exhausted after an enthusiastic round of sex, and Scott had still been split on Jackson’s knot when his cell phone had gone off. They’d agreed to help Stiles convince their potential new packmates and then when they’d heard Lydia was missing – well, they’d agreed to help search immediately. She’d been – and still was – an important part of Jackson’s life and Scott understood that.

He supposed he should be jealous of their connection, but he was surprisingly not. It was hard to be jealous of a Human girl when what he had with Jackson was so deep, so binding that it just seemed silly.

Jackson was his _mate,_ they were bound together for as long as the other still lived. How could Lydia ever compete with that? And so they were out looking for the vibrant red head, both seriously worried. They had no idea if Lydia had rejected the bite or not, and the fact that it had come Peter – even if the former Alpha was dead – seemed to make Derek incredibly concerned. That, in turn, had made everybody else just as concerned.

Erica, Boyd, and Isaac had wanted to help search, which was a huge plus in their favor for Scott, but Stiles hadn’t let them. Their Alpha was concerned not only by the amount of shifters that would be in the woods but also the Hunters, and he was unwilling to risk exposing his plans of expanding the pack to either group. Not to mention how easily breakable Humans were.

Scott had no idea just how fragile they really were until he’d been turned.

Warm arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him back against a solid chest. Scott sighed, craning his head back and to the side to accept the slightly too-rough kiss from his mate. He didn’t take it personally, he knew that Jackson was only frustrated (and though he would never admit it) frightened by their lack of progress in finding Lydia.

A hand rucked the hoodie and shirt up, nails scrapping at his happy trail before following it down beneath the band of his sweats. Scott broke the kiss with a gasp, scandalized as Jackson fondled him unabashedly.

“Jackson!” He tried to pull the hand out, but it tightened warningly around his growing hard-on. “I can’t believe you, we’re supposed to be finding Lydia.”

“I know.” Jackson said, sounding annoyed, “but clearly that’s not working.”

“Jax.” Scott said with a sigh and he turned in the hold, Jackson not missing a beat as the hand instantly began sliding across his butt cheek, rubbing tantalizingly across his crack. Scott pushed down his jolt of arousal, cock half-hard in his boxers. “We seriously need to find an outlet for you besides sex.”

Jackson made a face. “’Find an outlet?’ Have you been watching TLC again?”

“Shut up,” Scott snapped, cheeks hot with embarrassment. “See if I show any care for you mental wellbeing again, you ass.”

“Don’t be such an easy target and I won’t make fun of you so much, dork.”

“Yeah, that’s fair.” Scott muttered, irritated and trying to ignore the finger that was tapping against his hole. He bit his lip, eyes fluttering as it slipped in tip deep. Stiles had told him that most of this was normal; they’d want to mate as much as they could despite being out of rut, the newness of their mating driving their instincts, but this was ridiculous.

They had shit to do, they couldn’t just – his forehead smacked painfully against Jackson’s collar bone as the finger slid in deeper, Jackson’s thigh suddenly grinding against his aching cock. “Come on, Scottie,” Jackson breathed into his hair, “just help me take the edge off. We’ve been searching for fucking _hours.”_

Seriously needed to find a different way for Jackson to deal with his negative emotions outside of sex. Scott couldn’t just drop everything to get him off every time the blond was feeling out of sorts. Annoyed, the Beta bit into the t-shirt covered shoulder with blunt teeth, still sinking deep and grinning at the sharp, breathy sound of displeasure his mate made.

The grin disappeared when the finger jabbed harshly at his prostate, making his cock jump and his stomach twist. He lightened his bite until he was just mouthing at the fabric, hips rocking forward into Jackson’s and back into the probing finger. A second finger was added – dry, but Scott had begun to almost crave the stretching burn that came with unslicked penetration. The pain was so temporary, like a fleeting flash of feeling before his body healed itself and it seemed to only add to the intensity of their love-making.

And that was what it was; love-making.

Scott loved that, loved that he could think that and know that it was true. The fingers were fucking him deeply and unforgivingly and Scott could already feel his balls tightening. He ground harder against Jackson’s front, unwilling to get off without taking the blond with him.

“Such a filthy boy,” Jackson muttered, “look at you. Always so willing if it means you get something to fill you up.” Scott shuddered in both arousal and embarrassment, the fabric in his mouth completely soaked but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. “Should take you like this at school; open you up, watch you fall apart in front of everyone. Would you like Scottie? How about we give it a try during chemistry, see if Harris wants to watch. You always look so pretty when you come.”

The idea was too intense and Scott was (reasonably) sure he’d never allow it, but he still clenched around the invading digits harshly, his orgasm within reach. He was just on the very edge of it – whimpering Jackson’s name into his shoulder, hips shaking as they fought to take his fingers as deep as he could at this angle – when Jackson suddenly went still inside of him.

Confused, the Beta pulled away and felt his heart leap into his throat at the intense, concentrated expression on his mate’s face. “What is it?”

“…Lydia.”

Scott froze, head snapping to glance over his shoulder. His mouth dropped at the sight of Lydia Martin, naked as the day she was born, glaring at them, hands on her hips.

“I take it you’re the search party?” She rolled her eyes, “fucking typical. Do one of you want to explain why I’m naked in a forest or do you perverts want to finish first?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just an FYI, there will never, ever be a three-way between Derek, Stiles and Caleb. Just a little dirty talk during sex. And yay! Lydia's back!


End file.
